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ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

HIS OWN STORY 



BY 

BURTON B. PORTER 



«^ 



PUBLISHED BT THE JUTHOR 



E'cool 



JUBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Cooies Received 

APR 30 1907 

A £*pyrirht Entry 



Copyright, 1907, 
By burton B. PORTER 



PREFACE 

Were I writing the preface to the biography of some 
other fellow it would be, if slang were permissible, dead 
easy, but to write a preface to an autobiography is embar- 
rassing, to say the least. Place yourself before a full length 
plate glass mirror and take a good look at the person you are 
going to talk about. What can you say about him ? 

The result of such an attempt would necessarily be more 
or less egotistical, and in this, as in other similar efforts, the 
I's have it, no doubt. To tell the truth and state facts will 
force egotism to the surface, no matter how much you try 
to suppress it. 

I have no apologies to make for any shortcomings in the 
narrative. It is simply the story of a plain, unpretentious 
citizen of a great country where each life is one of the rest- 
less atoms in the teeming sea of humanity. It tells what 
happened to one of these lives, and what it caused to happen 
to others during seventy-five years of existence, and, with 
the exception of some episodes out of the ordinary experi- 
ences of men, it will have, to a large extent, its counterpart 
in that of millions of the common citizens who are ever 
struggling for the something beyond. 

i The ups and downs in life's earlier years, and in the period 
of manhood; in peace and in war; in prison and out of 
prison ; in sickness and in health ; in travels on land and on 
sea; in business and out of business, in love and otherwise, 

iii 



iv PREFACE 

with all its changing vicissitudes, make up the story as here 
written down with no attempt at embellishment, but with a 
strict adherence to truth. 

I hope this record of a somewhat strenuous career may 
have a passing interest to a busy but sympathetic genera- 
tion of fellow-workers. If the reader may draw from it 
some moral as well as some practical lessons, it will, per- 
haps, prove useful as well as, I trust, entertaining. 

B. B. P. 

CoLTON, California, 
October, 1906. 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I Boyhood Days i 

II Aspirations 15 

III Seeking a Fortune 25 

IV Life in the Gold Diggings 39 

V Home Again 71 

VI Enlistment for the War 94 

VII In the Army 112 

VIII The Battle Field. . . . . . . .138 

IX My Capture and Escape 151 

X Under the Stars and Stripes Again . . .221 

XI Ups and Downs in Business Life 236 

XII How TO Raise Trout 277 

XIII In California Again 288 

XIV Closing Events 342 



DEDICATED TO ANY AMERICAN FOOLISH 
ENOUGH TO SPEND HIS TIME IN READING THE 
HISTORY OF A COMMON MAN WHO IS NEITHER A 
FOOL NOR A WISE MAN. IT IS A SIMPLE NARRATIVE 
THAT REFLECTS THE LIVES OF THOUSANDS OF OTHER AMERI- 
CAN CITIZENS. ITS ONLY MERIT IS^ THAT IT IS 
INTENDED TO BE CORRECT ; BUT "a LITTLE NONSENSE 

now and then is relished by the wisest 

men." yours, without egotism, 

The Author. 



ONE OF THE PEOPLE 



CHAPTER I. 



BOYHOOD DAYS. 



I WAS born on the third day of March, 1832, in the city 
of Auburn, N. Y., where my parents were then Hving. I am 
satisfied that I was one of the party present on the occasion, 
but I cannot recall any circumstance connected with the 
event. I have a letter written by my mother to her sister in 
Connecticut corroborating the above. The first event im- 
pressed upon my memory was going to church with my 
mother and an aunt, dressed in a suit of scarlet in which 
was comprised the gorgeous embodiment of my first pants. 
The next ray of memory reaches back to December, 1835, 
when I went to the funeral of my mother with my father in 
a covered sleigh, through a very deep snow. This was the 
first tim.e I remember seeing my father. 

Of events previous to the time I first went to school, at 
the age of four years, only a few faint recollections remain. 
But the good old Mrs. Crocker, who kept a private nursery 
school in her own house, is well remembered. When any 
of the children got sick she put them to bed. I remember 
havin!2r the earache at one time while there. Mrs. Crocker 



5 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

soothed it and put me to bed. How the children loved this 
kind old lady! 

My mother's sister kept house for my father after my 
mother's death, and her daughter lived with the family, 
and was married at my father's house. This was the first 
marriage I had ever witnessed, and I thought the bride the 
most beautiful being that I had ever seen. The ceremony, 
to me, was very impressive, and thereafter I always held 
my cousin, the bride, in the greatest esteem. She after- 
wards became a star actress of beauty and talent, and played 
to crowded houses in all the large cities of the United States. 
Who says that impressions of childhood are not sometimes 
prophetic ? 

My aunt soon went to live with her daughter, and my 
father's half-sister kept house for us. I had a brother two 
and a half years younger than myself and only a year old 
when my mother died of pneumonia — in those days called 
quick consumption. JMy half-aunt was a veritable mother 
to us, and believed in the old maxim, ''Spare the rod and 
spoil the child." Though kind, many of our shortcomings 
were promptly attended to at the end of a switch, and I 
frequently went through a lively gymnastic exercise, accom- 
panied with yells, tears, promises, and burning sensations 
in the rear that subsided in due time, and I stood corrected 
until the next act in the drama came on. 

Every year, during the summer or fall, our family took 
a trip of about seventy miles southeast of Auburn to Che- 
nango County to visit Ezekiel Porter, the father and grand- 
father, an old Revolutionary soldier who lived on a farm. 
We always made the trip with a pair of horses and carriage, 
with the trunks strapped on behind, stage fashion. It took 
two days to make the journey, stopping for the night either 



BOYHOOD DAYS 3 

at Homer or Cortland on the way to and from our destina- 
tion. Those villages as they looked then are as fresh in my 
mind to-day as they were when I saw them sixty years ago. 

Upon the arrival of the guests at the old homestead a 
flock of sheep was gathered into a pen at the barn and a fine 
fat one killed. Of course a town boy was bound to be a 
nuisance while his uncle was catching a sheep, so I was 
kept in the house while this was going on, but my uncle had 
brought the sheep to the back of the house, under a tree, 
and from a window I watched the proceeding of cutting its 
throat with the greatest curiosity and delight. Somehow 
I got out and was soon covered with blood, to the supreme 
disgust of my aunt, but it was a great treat for me. 

Soon after this my father married his second wife, and 
my stepmother treated us very kindly, but she employed 
an old woman as nurse, who proved to be an old hag. My 
father was away from home most of the time, and during 
his absence a great deal of whisky was drunk at the house, 
and I was the boy that carried the jug to and fro from the 
grocery. It was a little brown jug that held about two 
quarts. I remember very well how it looked and how 
ashamed I was to be seen carrying it back and forth. 
One morning the jug was started rather early, with myself 
as a close companion to see it safely to and fro. To my 
disgust and surprise, the same afternoon it was started again, 
and very reluctantly I went with it. On the way I passed 
a pump in front of a hotel, and a bright idea struck me. 
I would fill up that jug at the pump and save time, as I 
had some very important engagement with some boys from 
whom I had been called to escort the jug. With a con- 
scious feeling of justification and a recklessness beyond my 
years, a disobedience of orders occurred. Water took the 



4 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

place of whisky, and the jug and I returned home, a Httle 
uncertain what the outcome would be. Parting company 
with the jug at the kitchen table I rushed off to find the 
boys. I delayed my return home to a late hour, crawled 
over the backyard fence, went in at the back door, got into 
the pantry, stuffed my pockets full of dry bread, and, un- 
observed, crawled upstairs, covered myself up in bed, 
where I took a quiet repast and soon after fell asleep amidst 
a bedful of crumbs. 

The next morning I hesitated about getting up, and con- 
ceived the idea of playing sick, but my empty stomach would 
not allow it. The aforesaid old hag in a piping voice com- 
manded me to come to breakfast at once. As she closed the 
door I caught the appetizing odors from the breakfast table. 
My place was soon filled at the table and my meal finished 
without a word on my part. I tried to get out of the house 
unobserved, hoping the little discrepancy of the day before 
would blow over without a row. But, alas ! my joyous 
hopes were crushed. The old hag clutched me by the collar 
and thumped me down into a wood-bottomed chair. With 
a rasping squeal I was told that I must sit there until she 
was ready to attend to me. Crying in childhood was not 
my habit, but the evenness of my mind was very much dis- 
turbed. The next act was the production of a rope from a 
nearby cupboard, when she proceeded to tie my arms and 
lead me out to the woodshed and fasten me to a post. A 
well-seasoned switch was brought forth and used with great 
vigor over my shoulders and legs, while I writhed in agony. 
But the drubbing was short, for she got out of wind on 
account of the debauch of the day before and had to sit 
down. Then she told me she had intended to make the blood 
run down my legs before she stopped and would surely do 



BOYHOOD DAYS , 5 

it the next time I cut such a caper as the one of the day 
before. Of course I had nothing to say, but when my father, 
came home he was fully informed of all the particulars. 
Soon after my stepmother was taken sick and died in less 
than a year after my father married her. Again my father's 
half-sister took charge of the household affairs, and I had 
a good mother again. Whooping cough, measles, chicken 
pox, vaccination, and children's diseases were gone through 
with safety. 

At school I learned very rapidly, and soon acquired a 
taste for reading books of travel, history, and lives of dis- 
tinguished men. What I read I remembered well. I was 
not a dull boy, but rather mischievous ; loved fun and play, 
and was what might be called an average bright boy. When 
I was six to seven years of age several of the schoolboys 
would go three or four miles out of town to see the cars 
come in at full speed (from fifteen to twenty miles an hour). 
At that time there was a railroad between Auburn and 
Syracuse. It was the farthest west of any railroad in opera- 
tion at that time — 1838. The road was laid with wooden 
rails with wrought-iron straps spiked on top. These bars 
of iron would often curl up and punch a hole in the bottom 
of the cars, and many accidents occurred from this cause. 
There were three locomotives on the road, named, respec- 
tively, the Cayuga, the Auburn, and the Syracuse. This 
road is now a branch of the main line of the New York 
Central, upon which I rode 148 miles on the Empire State 
Express in 160 minutes, and the train ran so smoothly that 
a glass of water on the window sill would not slop over. 
I wonder how it will be in 1939? 

Traits of character began to show during these years of 
boyhood, and many an escapade and boyish prank took place, 



6 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

a few oi which I now recall. In 1838 the boys of the 
immediate vicinity, from seven to twelve years of age, 
formed a company of about twenty lads and began to drill 
as soldiers under the tutelage of a boy thirteen or fourteen 
years of age, by the name of Charles H. Stewart, who, dur- 
ing the Civil War, became colonel of a volunteer regiment 
raised at Auburn, N. Y. This lad seemed to be a natural 
born commander, and under his training we became so pro- 
ficient in drill that we attracted much attention from the 
citizens of the town. The uniform consisted of red paper 
caps. We were armed with wooden toy guns, and a very 
nice flag of stars and stripes was furnished by the fond 
mothers of the embryo soldiers. I was exceedingly proud 
when I was chosen to act as color bearer. Our captain, like 
the Duke of York with ten thousand men, marched up the 
street and then marched down again. Our martial music 
emanated from a large toy drum and two boys with big 
whistles. The amount of noise created by that company of 
small boys was astonishing. I remember an Irish lad of 
ten summers who wanted to join the company, but he was 
objected to on account of his not being a full-blooded 
!A.merican ; but the captain finally concluded to let him join 
if he would always march at the rear and act as a servant 
of the captain. Our motto was, "Put none but Americans 
on guard." 

In the year 1840 Harrison and Tyler were nominated by 
the Whigs, and the "hard-cider" campaign followed. They 
built an immense log cabin in the center of the town, nailed 
coon skins on the gable end, rolled in barrels of hard cider, 
and started the campaign with a rush. Martin Van Buren 
was the Democratic candidate for President, and during the 
fall made a visit to Auburn, He was President at the time. 



BOYHOOD DAYS 7 

His visit was during a Democratic convention, and I got a 
good look at him as he passed in a carriage, with hat off, 
bowing to the people along the way. He was the first Presi- 
dent of the United States that I had ever seen, and of course 
it made a strong impression upon my mind. I supposed I 
had seen one of the greatest men on earth. Boylike, during 
a Democratic convention I was an enthusiastic Democrat, 
and during a Whig convention I was a first-class Whig, 
and with the rest of the boys sang Whig songs with great 
gusto. 

Soon after Van Buren's visit the Whigs had a great con- 
vention, held a barbecue, roasted an ox whole, and baked 
the largest johnnycake that had ever been seen. It was a foot 
thick and eight by sixteen feet in width and length. It was 
on a platform, placed where all could see it as they passed. 
As soon as the procession was over tables were set in the 
middle of the street, in front of the log cabin, and a stuffed 
coon was raised on the end of a pole about thirty feet above 
the huge johnnycake. Preparations were made to feed 
everybody. The platform at the end of the log cabin was 
large enough to set a table for speakers, singers, and bands- 
men ; also three or four barrels of hard cider. Hard cider 
in tin dippers was freely given away to anyone who wanted 
it, from a back window of the log cabin. One of my chums 
and myself kept together, and often visited the hard-cider 
window in the rear. We got places at the table also, and 
filled up on roast beef and johnnycake, well washed down 
with hard cider. 

Speaking, singing, and band playing were kept up for 
hours, but we two boys continued our visits to the back 
window for hard cider until we were happy as lords, and, 
picking up some stumps of cigars, got a light and com- 



8 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

menced smoking. Arm in arm, with hats tilted to one side, 
we started up the street for home, yelling for "Tippecanoe 
and Tyler, too." After a while there came a pause in the 
hilarity. Both of us were taken sick, vomiting roast beef, 
johnnycake, and cider in great profusion. We sat down on 
the curbstone for a while and felt a little better, but still 
very much intoxicated. However, we lit our cigars again, 
and, reeling our way along, started for home. Just then 
we were met by a woman, who grabbed me by the collar 
and violently shook me. The woman (my aunt) led me rap- 
idly home, my steps quickened every now and then by a 
good switching about my legs, causing me to forget all 
about "Tippecanoe and Tyler, too." She took me home 
and tied me in a chair, but I was too drunk to rebel or 
remember anything until the next day, when I found myself 
sick in bed. 

A few days afterward my father came home, and at the 
dinner table my aunt related the v/hole proceeding to him, 
winding up by saying, "The idea of a boy whose father was a 
good Democrat following off a dirty Whig procession, whose 
members gave a boy of his size nasty old hard cider until 
he was drunk as a fool. Even after I had got him home 
he went to singing 'Tippecanoe and Tyler, too.' Another 
Whig convention would make a perfect rowdy of him." 
After the meal was over my father took me out into the 
woodshed, and before he got through with me I was more 
than anxious to promise never to do so again. 

This escapade and its dire results will always help me 
to remember the Harrison and Tyler campaign of 1840, 
which was doubtless the most exciting campaign that ever 
occurred. "Two dollars a day and roast beef !" was the cry 



BOYHOOD DAYS .9 

of the Whigs, but, like most political promises made during 
the excitement of a campaign, they did not materialize. 

About this time my father sold out his business of manu- 
facturing the first goose-neck hoes made in the United States 
to a hardware merchant of Auburn, N. Y., who soon after 
failed, and my father was left a poor man, as he could 
not collect a dollar from his bankrupt debtor. This dis- 
couraged him so much that he decided to leave Auburn. 
He soon after married a widow who lived in the town of 
Solon (afterward divided and the eastern part named 
Taylor), Cortland County, N. Y., and owned a farm about 
fourteen miles east of Cortland village, the county seat. 

Up to this time — 1841 — I had been kept in school and 
had made good progress in reading, writing, spelling, geog- 
raphy, and mental arithmetic, and had commenced to learn 
grammar. In those days children were not pushed and 
rushed with more lessons to learn than they had time to 
learn them in. Hours of study in school were from 9 to 
12 A. M. and from i to 4 p. m. The remainder of the time 
was devoted to play and recreation, and they went to school 
in the morning fresh and ready to study with vigor. They 
learned better, and retained longer, that which they learned, 
than children do at the present day, and were physically, 
if not mentally, better off than the overworked children 
under the modern school system. 

When we moved from Auburn to the farm in Solon it 
seemed like a new world, and I commenced a new existence. 
My pet dog. Trip, went with me and was a constant com- 
panion. I had taught the dog to be driven with reins and 
whip until he was well broken. The next morning after 
the arrival at the new home the dog was hitched up, and he 
and I started on a voyage of discovery. We trotted along 



10 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

for a couple of miles, when, reaching the top of a hill, we 
discovered a village. We rested a while, took a good look 
at it, and then started back home to announce the discovery. 
On the way back a crow flew across the road, rather low, 
and the dog saw him. He had never seen a crow before 
and off he started after him, dragging me through a patch 
of thistles and briars. He then broke away from me and 
ran, barking, over the fields after the crow. I followed 
until we reached a piece of woods, where the dog disap- 
peared, and I went back to the road. Just then a man came 
along in a buggy, laughing very heartily, as he had seen the 
whole performance. He stopped and called to me and asked 
what the trouble was. I told him about it, and the man 
laughed more than ever. Feeling somewhat indignant at 
being laughed at, I started home after calling the dog. In 
a short time the dog came back with the reins broken, but 
I fixed them up and soon arrived home. I related my dis- 
covery to an admiring audience, but when I told about the 
dog and crow they all laughed as much as the man did that 
I had met. It was no laughing matter with me, as my 
clothes were badly torn, with face and hands scratched, but 
I soon got over it. 

The same afternoon my new stepmother's son, five years 
older than myself, coaxed me to go fishing with him for 
trout and carry the fish while he did the fishing. Of course 
nothing could please me better than going fishing, so away 
we went to the creek. We soon had fifteen or twenty very 
nice trout, my new stepbrother teaching me how to string 
them on a forked stick. In crossing over the stream on a 
slippery log, off I went into about two and a half feet of 
water and got a good ducking. I was badly scared, but 
held on to the fish, My companion helped me out and laid 



BOYHOOD DAYS ii 

me on an old log in the sun to dry, while he went down the 
creek to catch some more fish. We went home with a good 
mess of fish and reached there before night. Thus passed 
my first day of country Hfe at my new home, and I went 
to bed pretty well tired out with my day's adventures. 

I was nine years of age, rather small, but had great will 
power, fair health, was rather independent, loved fun and 
ready for a fight if imposed on, was quick in movement, 
and could outrun or out jump any boy of my size. Trifles 
never bothered me. I was genial with my companions, and 
got along without much trouble. I would rather be with 
boys older than myself, rather than with those who were 
younger. This trait of character lasted until I was thirty- 
five or forty years old, when it changed, and ever since I 
have better enjoyed tlie companionship of people younger 
than myself. My brother, two years and nine months youn- 
ger, I could never agree with. We were constantly quarrel- 
ing, and many a well-deserved thrashing did I get for thrash- 
ing him. We were no more alike in disposition or looks than 
a cat and dog, and agreed just about as well. Consequently 
we did not court each other's society, and were never 
together if we could possibly avoid it. 

Our family consisted of my father, my stepmother, her 
two sons, one five years older and the other ten years older ; 
one daughter, seven or eight years older than I ; my brother 
and myself. For some reason I was a favorite with my 
stepmother and her children, and my brother was favored 
by my father. My stepsister always declared that I was 
the most mischievous boy she ever saw. She often told of 
her spinning wool in one of the rooms upstairs at one time 
when, by some means, I had discovered a small knothole 
in the ceiling and saw my chance. I made an elder-stalk 



12 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

squirt gun, that held about one-half pint of water, filled it, 
and very quietly crawled up into the garret over the place 
where she was spinning, inserted the squirt-gun into the 
knothole, and fired a little water down. She looked up to 
see where it came from, and I let her have the remainder full 
in the face. While she was recovering from the shock I 
scrambled down and was out of the house before she could 
catch me, and doubtless my legs saved me from her wTath on 
that occasion. However, I was forgiven if I would promise 
to not do it again. 

The summer passed rapidly, working, fishing, hunting, 
picking berries, and riding horseback — a new experience 
for me. The country had a great charm for me, and never 
for a moment did I wish to return to city life. The next 
winter was passed at school. My long vacation seemed to 
brighten my ideas, and doubtless caused me to learn much 
faster. One difficulty caused much trouble. My brother 
and I were continually quarreling. My father said he would 
have to separate us. Toward spring he took me with him 
on a visit to Smithville, N. Y., where his two half-sisters 
and stepmother lived, and a half-brother on an adjoining 
farm. The outcome of that visit was that his two half- 
sisters (old maids) decided to take me to bring up. To me 
the idea was rather pleasing, and in the course of a few 
weeks I was fully established in my new home. As my 
aunts had no dog, and I was anxious to have one, my father 
brought me one of the black and tan species, about three 
months old. This proved to be a fine hunter for wood- 
chucks, squirrels and partridges. Trip was my constant 
companion and was a source of much enjoyment to me, 
deprived as I was of the company of other playmates. 

My uncle worked the farm, and I was his helper in every- 



BOYHOOD DAYS 13 

thing that I could do. I was kept pretty busy during the 
summer, and went to school in the winter for three or four 
months. Our house was situated some distance from the 
main-traveled road, and w^e seldom saw anyone except they 
came to see us. It was a dull place for a lively, wide- 
awake boy, but I managed to enjoy myself. I had acquired a 
great taste for reading and read all the books and newspap- 
ers that I could get hold of. My uncle also was a great 
reader and a well-informed man. He was always ready to 
enlighten me upon any subject that interested me. He was a 
living encyclopedia to me, and I received a great deal of use- 
ful information from him that was of much benefit to me. 
Being a kind and indulgent man, I soon learned to love him. 
He doubtless instilled into my character many traits that in- 
fluenced my later life. He is still living (May, 1899), and is 
ninety-one years of age. 

One of my aunts was an intolerable scold, and a large 
share of her vituperative language was addressed to me. 
Being of a restless, sensitive nature, the repeated scoldings 
I got for my boyish pranks began to make me uneasy and 
discontented. My aunt was very good when she was good, 
but her tongue lashings more than counterbalanced her 
otherwise good behavior. 

When I was about thirteen or fourteen years old I became 
very much in love with one of our neighbor's daughters, 
who was about my own age. She had red hair, was very 
much freckled, but had a bright countenance and a lively 
and winning way that caught me entirely. My youthful 
passion was reciprocated, but I had a rival about my own 
age, but more than half a head taller. At our school there 
was a good deal of rivalry as to who was the best speller. 
We had spelling schools every week, and, of course, the boys 



14 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

escorted the girls home on such occasions. One'evenmg I 
asked permission from my girl to escort her home. She 
readily agreed, and we started off. The snow was about 
a foot deep, but the sleighing was good and the path well 
broken. My rival was very wroth that I had got ahead of 
him, and, following behind, kept tripping me up with his 
foot, with the intention of getting me down and capturing 
the girl. I got mad after awhile and asked her to wait 
while I thrashed him. She consented, so I turned on him, 
and we were soon down in the snow pounding each other 
in fine style. The presence of my girl seemed to give me 
strength, and he came off second-best. We left him with 
the blood streaming down his face from his battered nose, 
and I soon had my girl at her home. The next day my rival 
declared he would whip me, and tried to tell the rest of the 
boys how it all happened. At noon we had it again, and 
quite a severe fight occurred, but before it was ended the 
teacher interfered and stopped it. We never fought again, 
and became very good friends. Some years afterward my 
rival married the girl, and her first boy was named after me. 
I have visited the family many times, and we are still the 
best of friends. Thus ended my first love affair. 



CHAPTER II. 



ASPIRATIONS. 



The winter after I was fifteen years old I made up my 
mind to push out into the world for myself, and began to 
concoct schemes to carry out my purpose. About this time 
my father came down to visit me, as was his custom about 
twice a year, and I informed him quietly of my intention. 
He said but little at the time, but about a week afterward 
he sent my stepbrother to take me home. My aunts were 
very much astonished and laid all the blame upon my father, 
not knowing that I had anything to do with it. I said 
nothing, but most cheerfully got ready to leave at once. 

This event changed the whole course of my existence. 
The youngest son of my stepmother, five years my senior, 
was a very peculiar character. Though naturally a genius, 
he was rough, uncouth, and uneducated, with a strong pro- 
pensity to drink. He was fond of hunting, fishing, and trap- 
ping, and had a supreme dislike for work. Still, he was free- 
hearted, and would go out of his way at any time to accom- 
modate anyone that he liked. He consequently had many 
friends, but was not the sort of character for a boy of 
fifteen to be associated with as a boon companion. Yet I 
was not easily led into that which I thought was not right. 
Therefore I was not seriously contaminated by my associa- 

15 



i6 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

tion with him. The older brother was also a peculiar char- 
acter. He was a strictly temperate man, very much set in 
his ways, ambitious, very anxious to make money, and a 
hard worker. He was honest, but too grasping to accumu- 
late much, as he had no speculative ability. The step- 
brothers never agreed, but the older one controlled the 
younger to a considerable extent. 

My stepmother's daughter was married and lived a few 
miles away. She was a woman of the sweetest disposition 
and beloved by all who knew her. With my brother I had 
nothing to do, as we seemed not to have a single thought 
in common. All the family were friendly to me, except my 
own brother. My father still managed the country hotel, as 
my stepmother had before she married him, and I was 
brought into contact with characters of great variety, and 
I picked up much miscellaneous information. 

An old-fashioned country inn fifty years ago was unlike 
anything to be found in these days of railroads, telegraphs, 
telephones, and automobiles. The country tavern was head- 
quarters for the neighborhood gossip, the news of the day, 
unique characters, old topers, wayward young men, politi- 
cians, preachers, strangers, horse thieves, pedlers, etc. Elec- 
tions, shooting matches, horse races, and militia gatherings 
for general training were also held in the town. Whisky 
was sold at three cents per glass. Large fireplaces, where 
heavy logs were burned without stint day and night, fur- 
nished warmth. 

The farm consisted of one hundred acres or more, and 
in those days cattle and sheep were driven to distant mar- 
kets. During the summer droves were kept over night on 
the farm. The first money I ever earned for myself was by 
helping to drive cattle. I received twenty-five cents a day, 



ASPIRATIONS 17 

with board, for five clays. The custom in those days was to 
keep the drover, on his return, free of charge at the place 
where he had stopped with the drove. I arrived home all 
right, very proud of earning my first dollar. Being of a 
nervous temperament, the humdrum life on the farm did 
not accord with my desire to see more of the world. Always 
of an inquiring mind, blessed with a good memory and a 
good constitution, full of life, wide-awake and fond of fun, 
I managed to pass the summer enjoying myself to the extent 
a boy of my age could who had his own head and his own 
way. 

In early fall "apple cuts" were in vogue among the farm- 
ing community, ending with a dance which seldom wound 
up before daylight. ^'Johnny," a nickname that my step- 
brother had given me, had an invitation to attend one of 
these parties ; so I got on my best clothes and was all ready 
to start out when my father interposed a veto, declaring 
that I was too young to be out all night to a dance. This 
put a damper on my aspirations, and, nothwithstanding the 
pleadings of my stepmother to let me go, the old gentleman 
was obdurate. So "Johnny" sat down seemingly contented, 
and in due course of time went to bed. As soon as my 
father had retired I quietly crawled down the stairs in my 
stocking feet, went to the barn, got a bridle and saddle, then 
went to the pasture and caught a horse, and at ten o'clock 
was at the "apple cut," as happy as a king. That night was 
my first attempt at dancing, but before daylight I was safely 
at home and in bed. Just fifteen minutes after I had 
crawled into bed my father called me to get up, and I 
promptly came down, rubbing my eyes, as a dutiful son 
naturally would. For some reason my father after that 
never objected to my going to a dance. 



iB ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

During the winter of 1847 I attended school and at its 
close in March planned to run away with another lad of the 
same age as myself to work for six months on a farm and 
return in time for school in the fall. One bright morning 
we were off, with but two dollars and a half apiece in our 
pockets. After traveling for several days we reached Ithaca 
and went down the east side of Cayuga Lake, stopping at 
almost every house inquiring for work until we found our- 
selves at the farm of an uncle of my traveling companion, 
where we stayed for several days. Then ''Johnny" came 
marching home alone, my companion remaining with his 
relatives. 

A short time after my return my father took me to Syra- 
cuse and got me a place as clerk in the wholesale and retail 
grocery store of John M. Jaycox & Co., to work for my 
board and clothes for the first year. Two months of hard 
work there nearly disabled me, and Mr. Jaycox advised me 
to return to school for another year. This did not suit me in 
the least, and I concluded to make a visit to Auburn, N. Y., 
my birthplace, before I went home, but soon found that I 
needed more money, and began to look about for a job. At 
Geddes, a short distance from Syracuse, I found the superin- 
tendent of the Oswego & Syracuse Railroad, then being built, 
and asked him for a job. The man laughed, and asked me 
what I could do. I told him I thought that I could drive a 
team on the dumping-ground. ''Why, my boy," said the man, 
"you are too small." "Oh, no, I am not," I said. "Just try 
me." He finally offered me ten dollars a month and board, 
on trial. I was given a large, fine team of horses — so large, 
indeed, that I had to get up into the manger to put the col- 
lars on them. At the end of the month I received ten dol- 
lars and a pass to Auburn on a freight train. On my arrival 



ASPIRATIONS ' 19 

there I found a large number of my old playmates and 
schoolmates, with whom I had a very pleasant visit. 

This was the summer of 1848, and the news of the dis- 
covery of gold in California had just reached us. Ships 
were being fitted out in New York to go around the Horn, 
companies were being formed, and great excitement pre- 
vailed. I caught the fever, and got up a scheme with George 
Simpson, a new acquaintance I had made, to raise money 
enough to get to New York City, where we could sell news- 
papers on the streets until we had a chance to board one of 
the ships that was about to sail as stowaways, and perhaps 
earn passage to San Francisco by working our way. The 
plan was to leave x'Vuburn secretly some night and walk to 
Weedsport, eight miles from Auburn, where we would reach 
the Erie Canal ; then to work our passage to Albany, N. Y., 
on a canal boat, and thence to New York. The night was 
set and everything was ready, but unluckily George Simp- 
son's father caught him coming down the stairs with his 
little bundle and made him confess the whole thing. 

The plan fell through, therefore, and in a few days I 
started for home on foot, across country, fifty miles away. 
I arrived there in good shape and told my story just as it 
occurred. Though a wild boy, and ready for almost any 
kind of adventure, I was always truthful, and could be 
trusted under any and all circumstances. This virtue I had 
acquired in a large degree through the wholesome training 
of my aunts, and it lasted throughout my life. 

In the spring of 1849 I made a visit to my aunts in Smith- 
ville, N. Y., and engaged to work for six months on their 
farm for nine dollars a month. This service I faithfully per- 
formed, received my pay, and from one of the neighbors 
bought a colt, six months old, for twenty-six dollars. Proud 



20 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

of my possessions, with my rifle on my shoulder, and lead- 
ing the colt, I started for home, twenty miles away. My 
youngest stepbrother had a colt about the age of mine, and 
we had lively arguments as to who had the best colt. 

Early in the following spring a man came into the town 
who had just returned from California, and showed some 
gold nuggets that he said he had mined himself. I looked 
at them with a great deal of interest, and resolved at once 
to go to California and dig gold for myself, 

I hired out to one of the farmers in the neighborhood for 
four months, at twelve dollars a month. I worked my time 
out, and decided to go on the Erie Canal for the rest of the 
season. But my father sternly opposed this. Apparently 
I yielded to my father's v/ill, but slyly induced my step- 
mother to get my clothes ready. These I covered up in a 
wagon, and my stepbrother took me about fifteen miles on 
my way, on the pretense that we were going to visit my step- 
mother's daughter. 

The next morning at sunrise I was well on my way to 
Syracuse, v/here I expected to get a chance to drive a team 
on the canal. I arrived there after a hard tramp, put up at 
a hotel, and, after breakfast, started out to find work; but 
it was not so easy as I had thought. At noon, after I had 
got something to eat, I wended my way to Lodi Locks, just 
east of Syracuse, and made the acquaintance of the lock- 
tender, who told me how to proceed to get a job. Every 
boat that passed through the lock I was to inquire for work. 
A couple of days passed, my money was gone excepting 
three cents, and no work in sight. About five p. m. I went 
over to the grocery at the lock and bought a three-cent cigar, 
lit it, and went over to the lock-tender's house, leaned back 
in his chair and smoked as contentedly as though I was a 



ASPIRATIONS ^ 21 

person of wealth. The lock-tender gazed at me for a mo- 
ment with a smile on his face, and said : "Say, young fellow, 
you say you have no money, yet you act as though you owned 
the whole canal. You'll do." Before the cigar was finished 
I had struck a job and was on a boat bound for Buffalo. 

When the boat reached Rochester the course was changed, 
and she went up the Genesee canal to Morristown, to the 
Shaker colony, for a load of grain. On the return of the 
boat to Rochester I left my job and spent a night in a dry- 
goods box on the bank of the canal by the side of a ware- 
house. In the morning I concluded I would rather drive 
stage than work longer on the canal, and I made inquiries 
for a stage office. A policeman gave me directions, and I 
was soon engaged in conversation with the stage line super- 
intendent. I was small for my age, and, the counter being 
a high one, my eyes were but little above the edge of it. 
"Well, young man, what can I do for you ?" "Do you want 
a driver?" I asked. The superintendent looked at me and 
began to laugh. "Do you want to engage as a driver?" 
"Yes, sir," I said. 

The man leaned over the counter, laughing, and, looking 
at my legs, said : "Your legs are too short ; besides, I hardly 
think you could hold back a stage full of passengers coming 
down a steep hill. Do you think you could?" "Try me." 
"Well, I admire your pluck, but I don't think you will do ; 
besides, we have no vacancy just now." After asking if he 
could direct me to any other line, and receiving a negative 
answer, I went back to the canal and started on the tow- 
path towards home. I had not gone far before I had an- 
other job with a man and his wife and son, with whom I 
stayed as long as I was on the canal. I went to Albany, 
also down the Chenango canal to Hamilton. When we 



22 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

were at Oriskany Falls, the large feeder of the Erie, as well 
as of the Chenango, was damaged by a heavy rain-storm, 
which carried the dam away, and a wall of water ten feet 
high came sweeping down and carried everything before it. 
It destroyed an immense amount of property and washed the 
canal entirely away in many places, obliging our boat to lay 
in the basin at Oriskany Falls for two weeks. 

When we arrived at Utica, where we lay for a day or 
two and unloaded, I paid out almost my last cent for a stock 
of winter clothing. The suit I selected was rather unique, 
indeed, somewhat gaudy, but I consulted my own taste. A 
snuff-colored shaker cutaway coat with velvet collar, a black 
velvet vest with a large strawberry vine and leaves in colors, 
and a pair of black doeskin pants made up the suit. When 
we arrived at Syracuse I left the boat, though the man and 
his wife urged me very hard to go home and winter with 
them, where I could go to school and it would cost me noth- 
ing. But I was too independent, and started for home with 
my load of clothes on my back in a sack. I stayed overnight 
a few miles out of town, and walked home the next day, a 
distance of forty miles. I arrived home just at dusk. My 
father, brother and two stepbrothers were all at home, and, 
with the exception of my father, gave me a warm greeting. 
I expected at least a good scolding from my father for run- 
ning away. He turned to me and asked: "What have you 
got there in that bundle, my boy ?" ''Clothes, sir." "Let me 
see them." I spread them out on the table. My father 
looked them all over very carefully, and said : "How much 
money have you ?" After fishing about in my jacket pockets 
I pulled out a ten-cent piece. "Is that all ?" he added. "Yes, 
sir," said I. 

The old gentleman turned pn hi3 heel and walked off into 



ASPIRATIONS 23 

another room, and that was all the censure I got. School 
commenced in a few days, and I cut quite a swell among 
the young maidens of the school in my new clothes, and 
was the envy of all the other boys, who wore homespun 
goods. Having seen more of the world than they, I was, 
in their estimation, entitled to a front seat. My company 
was more or less sought by the young ladies of the school 
for these reasons, and, being of a good disposition and not 
overbearing, I had hardly an enemy in the whole school. 
Besides, I was ahead of nearly all of them in our studies. 
This ended my education in the district school. 

During the winter I commenced writing a novel, and after 
completing a few chapters the knowledge of what I was 
doing reached the ears of a well-educated gentleman of 
wealth. He asked me to bring what I had written and let 
him see it. After some hesitation I did so, and the good man 
was so well pleased with it that he encouraged me to keep 
on, giving me much good advice and assistance. I finished 
the manuscript, which I have kept as a relic of youth, and 
it has proved a source of amusement to me in my old age. 
It is just fifty years ago from this date of writing that I was 
engaged in this literary effort. Let us look back at those 
good old days and note the improvements made since that 
time. Railroads, telegraphs and steamships were taking the 
place of old methods of communication and transportation, 
but the stage coach still held its own in most parts of the 
country. The American Union was represented by thirty- 
one States, with but little improvement west of the Missis- 
sippi. About that time California was attracting the atten- 
tion of the world by its rich gold mines, and I had the gold 
fever badly and made up my mind to see that country, I 
bent all my energies to its accomplishment, but the problem 



■-I' 



24 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

was, how was I to get there? I made up my mind to save 
every dollar that I could earn vmtil I had enough to carry 
me to this golden El Dorado. It was slow work to save 
enough by working on a farm during the summer season at 
nine to twelve dollars a month, but I was determined to ac- 
complish the task and never wavered for a moment. At 
work in the summer and at school in the winter, I strug- 
gled on. 

This tenacity of purpose in a boy of sixteen showed plain- 
ly the capacity of the coming man. Though fond of society, 
fun and pleasure, and sports, with a sort of don't-care dispo- 
sition, I still kept my eye out for my former intention. Many 
little episodes characteristic of a boy at this time of life could 
be related here, but, like most boys, I enjoyed the society of 
the girls and the varied social amusements of young people. 

For the next three years nothing of great importance 
transpired to mar my life, and I probably enjoyed myself as 
well or better than most boys of my age. I had my own way 
and did mostly as I pleased, my father not trying to control 
my actions to any extent, or take the money that I had 
earned. He was very much opposed to my going to Califor- 
nia, but finally concluded that if I was determined to go it 
was useless to oppose me. My father gave me good advice, 
but was unable to help me in a financial way. 



CHAPTER III. 

SEEKING A FORTUNE. 

The young man with whom I worked on the farm was 
two or three years older than myself. I got him into the 
notion of going with me. His name was John Clement. He 
had no education, in fact, could not write his own name, but 
was naturally bright, of a strong build and in the best of 
health. Our engagements on the farm expired October i, 
1852, and we made up our minds to take the steamer from 
New York, via the Isthmus, for San Francisco, October 
20th, of that year. At that time it was a great undertaking. 
We young Americans, though verdant country lads, had 
never seen the ocean or knew anything about traveling, but 
we faltered not, and on the appointed day took passage on 
the stage for Binghamton, N. Y., amid tearful companions, 
who tried to dissuade us from our venture. But we were 
not made of the kind of stuff to back out, although some 
told us that we would never return again. 

We were whirled away with many a "God bless you!" 
Though we had barely enough money to pay for tickets in 
the steerage through to San Francisco, we left with high 
hopes for the future. Arriving at Binghamton before sun- 
down the same day, we took the night train on the Erie 
Railroad for New York, arriving on the morning of October 
19, 1852. The day was spent in securing tickets and seeing 
r 25 



2^ ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

the sights about the city. Stopping at French's Hotel, we 
found a party of four — Joe Gibbs, who had been to CaHfor- 
nia and now on his return; his brother, Ed Gibbs, and a 
cousin, John Gibbs, who was going to take a berth on one 
of the Pacific Coast steamers as third mate. The fourth 
was Asa Chase, a friend of the Gibbs boys, all from Fall 
River, Mass. 

We joined the four, making a party of six. We pledged 
ourselves to stick by one another through thick and thin. 
We elected Joe Gibbs as manager of the party, he being the 
oldest man — thirty-five years of age — and had had experi- 
ence on a former trip. Gibbs was a good manager, well 
educated, shrewd and honorable. This was a fortunate ar- 
rangement for us boys. Joe purchased the tickets and looked 
after his charge with seeming pleasure. He was full of 
jokes and had an endless stock of stories which kept the 
party always in good humor. None of the boys, as he called 
them, was over twenty-three years of age except John Gibbs, 
who was about thirty, and had been a sailor ever since he 
was seventeen. 

At noon, on the 20th day of October, 1852, we sailed 
down the bay on the steamer Illinois. Her name was after- 
wards changed to North America, and she foundered at sea 
off Cape Hatteras, with a loss of a great many lives, includ- 
ing the San Francisco Minstrels, who played so long on 
Broadway, opposite the Metropolitan Hotel. 

The first night out, a northwester blew a gale, and con- 
tinued for thirty-five hours, and most of the party were 
very sick. After passing Hatteras the voyage was a pleasant 
one all the way to Aspinwall, where we arrived on the 28th 
of October, landing the next morning. We took the cars 
on the Panama Railroad, which was then built to the Chci- 



SEEKING A FORTUNE 27 

gres River. From there we had to take boats up the river 
to Gorgonia or Cruces, thence to Panama by trail, on foot 
or mule-back. At Barbacoas, where the railroad ended, two 
of the passengers got into a quarrel, and, drawing their re- 
volvers, commenced shooting at each other among the 
crowd, with the result that one was mortally wounded, but 
fortunately no one else was hurt. What became of the other 
one I know not. 

There seemed to be no law or order on the Isthmus at 
that time. There were plenty of boatmen, with boats like a 
large yawl, with a seat running from stem to stern on either 
side. These boats would carry from ten to fifteen people, 
besides the boatmen, consisting of four to five men besides 
the captain, who was also the steersman. The boats were 
propelled by long poles, the men walking on a narrow plat- 
form on the edge of the boat, outside the seats and a few 
inches above them. The men that handled the poles were 
as naked as when they were born, except a hat and a wide 
belt around the hips. The boats were started as soon as the 
seats were filled, and, as every one was in a hurry to go, it 
did not take long to fill a boat. Kate Hayes, one of the 
great singers of that time, was among the passengers for 
San Francisco. She passed us with a picked crew soon 
after we started. The fare was four dollars to Gorgonia, 
and six to Cruces, and the trip to the latter place could be 
made in about fifteen hours. 

A stop was made at Gorgonia, where there was a large 
gambling house, and we were detained for three hours or 
more, until the crew had lost all their money, when they 
were ready to go on to Cruces. From Gorgonia to Cruces 
the trip was made by daylight. We were seldom out of 
sight of monkeys, alligators, or snakes. We sciw one very 



28 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

large boa constrictor that was stretched out over a mass of 
bushes and vines, with a body larger than a man's thigh, but 
his length could not be ascertained. All those who were 
armed shot at him as he moved out of sight. One of the 
boys shot a monkey and wounded it; the poor monkey 
screamed and cried exactly like a child. So pitiful were its 
screams that they shot no more monkeys. It seemed too 
much like shooting a liuman being. A great deal of ammu- 
nition was wasted on the huge alligators lying along the 
edge of the river, with mouths held wide open for the flies 
to collect in, when the jaws would come together with a 
snap like a pistol shot. 

At about noon we arrived at Cruces, nearly worn out by 
the night's trip. We found lodgings in a bamboo house, and 
slept in the upper story in hammocks. 

The next morning the Gibbs party had increased to nine 
in number, who stuck together for the trip of twenty-five 
miles to Panama. Mules to ride cost twenty-five dollars, so 
we made the trip on foot, engaging a pack train to carry 
the baggage. We started out about 6 a. m. in good spirits. 
Before lo a. m. a terrific thunder-storm set in, with the heat 
terribly oppressive, while the rain came down in torrents. 
In less than twenty minutes the sun was shining again. We 
had nine thunder-showers before night, accompanied by 
almost continuous thunder and lightning, such as are not 
seen outside of the tropics. One small mountain stream 
rose eighteen feet in twenty minutes, but went down almost 
as fast. Although it was but a stone's throw across the 
stream, a woman with a baby in arms, riding a mule, at- 
tempted to ford the stream after it began to rise, and was 
washed down in the current and drowned. 

Just at dusk we reached Panama in safety, but completel)^; 



SEEKING A FORTUNE 29 

drenched and covered with mud. Murders and robberies 
were of ordinary occurrence among the passengers that 
crossed the Isthmus in those days. Only about two-thirds 
of the baggage sent through by mule-train from Cruces or 
Gorgonia ever reached its owners. Kate Hayes rode a mule 
across the Isthmus, astride on a man's saddle. She received 
a great many cheers from the boys, as she passed, for her 
courage and bravery. 

The next day after we arrived at Panama, Asa Chase and 
I took a notion to go down to the bay and take a swim. The 
tide being out, we scrambled over the rocks for about half 
a mile before we reached the water. We then piled our 
clothes on the highest rock and started in for a good swim. 
After swimming about a quarter of a mile, we looked back 
and saw that the rocks were disappearing, and hurried back 
for our clothes, which were in danger of being carried away 
by the tide. We reached them just in time, and came near 
having to swim ashore. When we reached town a native 
was brought along with a leg cut off above the knee as 
smooth as you could cut it with a knife. He had fallen off 
a lighter upon which he was working, and a shark took off 
his leg in the twinkling of an eye, but his comrades pulled 
him aboard and saved his life. On learning the fact that 
the bay w^as full of sharks, and that we had been out among 
them, we felt very thankful for our escape, but a good deal 
frightened at the risk we had run, and concluded to swim 
no more at Panama. 

For the next four days our party were engaged in seeing 
the sights of Panama; watching the buzzards, the only 
cleaners of the city; rambling along the old sea wall, hun- 
dreds of years old, with its old cannon, as bright as when 
hrst cast, but the old wooden carriages almost entirely rotted 



30 ONE OF THE PEOPLE . 

away, and elsewhere. In the suburbs of the city we 
gathered oranges and lemons from the trees scattered about 
the hills overlooking the city and bay ; visited the cathedral, 
and tried to pick up a little Spanish from the old market 
women. Everything was new and strange, and we were 
very much interested. 

We bought steerage tickets for San Francisco from Pan- 
ama on the old steamer Oregon, for one hundred and twenty- ^ 
seven dollars, and sailed on the 4th of November, 1852. John 
Gibbs, of our party, was installed as fourth mate for the trip 
to San Francisco. On the first Sunday out from Panama, 
Kate Hayes came on deck and sang at services conducted by 
a minister of the gospel. Every passenger aboard the ship 
was charmed with her voice. At her first concert in San 
Francisco tickets were sold at auction, the first ticket bring- 
ing over one thousand dollars. She was the most noted song- 
stress that had ever visited San Francisco. Madame Anna 
Bishop was afterwards considered her equal by some until 
the immortal Patti appeared. 

In less than ten days after the Oregon landed us at the 
wharf at San Francisco I saw the minister who preached 
on board the Oregon at the faro table in the El Dorado gam- 
bling house, at the southeast corner of Kearney and Wash- 
ington Streets, betting his money freely, still wearing his 
clerical garb, apparently as sincere a sinner as any who sur- 
rounded the gaming table. I mention these little incidents 
to show how prone is human nature to yield to tempations 
when in the midst of them. Away from home, friends and 
restraining influences, man removes all masks, and his real 
character stands out as in the noonday sun, with no check 
but his own will ; hence the study of human traits was much 



SEEKING A FORTUNE 3I 

easier In California in those days than in older communi- 
ties where deceit and hypocrisy are so common. 

On the 1 8th of November we met the steamship Golden 
Gate, from San Francisco for Panama. Both vessels saluted 
by firing several guns. John A. Gibbs was loading our gun, 
when a premature discharge of the gun blew off both his 
arms, which went to sea with the ramrod. His head 
struck the railing and his skull was crushed. The first mate, 
standing near, caught the body and saved it from going 
overboard. Gibbs belonged to our party and was beloved 
by all. The next day he was buried at sea. 

We arrived at San Francisco about eleven o*clock Satur- 
day night, the 20th of November, making the entire trip 
in thirty-one days, including all stoppages. In San Fran- 
cisco we stopped at the Howard House, on Pacific Street. 
Just below us was Pacific Wharf, where all the up-river 
steamers landed. The next day our party looked over the 
town, and found all the gambling houses in full blast, as 
well as the saloons and retail stores. People — nearly all 
men — from every civilized nation on earth were on the 
streets in their native costume, which was much more 
marked than at the present time. To stand on the street 
and observe the people pass, clad in such a variety of cos- 
tumes, was a sight that could not be seen in any other city 
of the world at that time. There were but few women in 
San Francisco in those days, except the demi-monde, and 
these were not numerous. 

On Monday morning, after paying our last dollar for 
board (we had but four dollars when we landed), and en- 
gaging board at seventeen dollars a week, the landlord hav- 
ing kindly agreed to trust us for the first week, we started 
out to look for work. We had not stood on the corner of 



3^ ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

Pacific and Front streets many minutes before several men 
had asked us if we wanted work. John Clement went to 
work at a dollar an hour helping to unload a ship, and the 
re^t of us secured work at the same rate to unload wagons. 
On the way down we had repeated offers of work at a dollar 
an hour. The job that we had taken was too heavy for us, 
and after two and a half hours we had to stop. We were 
paid off, receiving two dollars and a half each, and were too 
tired to make any further effort that day. The next day 
we worked at sprouting onions, at twenty-five cents a hun- 
dred pounds. At this we made eight dollars a day, so we 
soon had money ahead. 

San Francisco at that time was doubtless the liveliest town 
on earth, and the following incident will illustrate the enter- 
prise and go-aheadativeness of the times. We were on the 
wharf one morning, when a load of lumber was driven close 
to us and we were ordered to get out of the way. A man 
told us that a store was to be put up that day and finished 
at six p. m., as it was to be opened at seven. Nothmg but 
the piles driven into the water, with some timbers on them, 
was in place. We stopped for a while to see the work go 
on and in a short time the floor was laid and a balloon 
frame was going up when we left. At night we went down 
to see what had been done, and found the store m full blast, 
selling goods. The store was lined with cotton cloth ; shelves 
and counters were all in, gas lights and fixtures were all up, 
where but twelve hours before had been only a water lot. 

While sprouting onions for an old gentleman, who seenied 
very friendly, he asked me this question: ''Boy, what did 
vou come to this country for?" "To make money I an- 
swered ^'Well," he said, "let me give you a little advice. 
^'All right; let us hear it." "'WelV' he says, "you say you 



SEEKING A FORTUNE 33 

were raised on a farm and know how to split rails, and that 
you intend to go to the mines. Now, I'll tell you what to do, 
and if at the end of three years you are not worth fifty thou- 
sand dollars Ell give you the half of it, if I am worth it. 
Get some one who knows how to farm, go across the bay, 
up into the foothills, and build a cabin and split rails enough 
to fence in a few acres of land. Then change work with 
some of those ranchers, and get the land plowed and rails 
hauled — and they will be glad to do it; and when you get 
the land ready plant all kinds of fruit seeds, and in a year's 
time you can begin to sell trees at a dollar apiece." *'Yes, 
but how are we to make a living in the meantime?" "Oh, 
I'll furnish you all you need, and you can pay me when you 
sell your trees." *'Yes, you are very kind, but how are we 
to get the land?" *'Why, you will just squat on it, and the 
owners will be glad to have you, for it will improve it and 
make it salable. No trouble about that. Now, you had 
better try it, even if you have to lease a few acres at a good 
price. It will pay you better than any mine." "You may 
be right, and it looks encouraging. We will have a talk 
with the party that came out here with us, and we will see 
you to-morrow and let you know if we conclude to try it.'* 

The old gentleman's proposition was a splendid one, and 
we would have gone into it if we could have got any one to 
go with us. We laid the matter before Joe Gibbs and the 
rest of the party, but they all refused to undertake it. Had 
Vv-e followed the old man's advice, we could have made three 
hundred thousand dollars, instead of fifty thousand, for any 
kind of fruit tree one year old brought a dollar a piece for 
at least three years afterwards. 

Circumstances seem to control a man's destiny, call it 



34 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

what you may — luck, management, or opportunity. Some 
seem to drift along on a wave of prosperity without apparent 
effort — or it may be a wave of disaster. Luck was firmly 
believed in, in those days, and it did seem as though good 
sense and good management did not amount to much except 
in certain instances. The next day, Joe Gibbs had all of our 
party hired out to Meigs to go to work at a steam lumber 
mill at Mendocino Point, at the mouth of Big River, two 
hundred and fifty miles up the coast. We were to receive 
seventy-five dollars per month and board, and we were to 
leave the next day, December 4, 1852, on the brigantine 
Glencoe, expecting to reach our destination in about three 
days. All were pleased to get a job of steady work. We 
had been in San Francisco two weeks, and had provided 
ourselves with clothing and blankets and had a little money 
left. 

We started with six other men, making eleven who were 
passengers for the mills. Our quarters was a small house 
on deck, just large enough for us all to lie down, with not 
a foot of space to spare, but we thought we could stand it 
for a three days' trip. For three days we beat against a 
strong head wind. On the fourth day a heavy storm from 
the southwest arose. The wind blew a gale, and the rain 
fell in torrents. Just before night we ran into the little har- 
bor at Mendocino Point and dropped both bow anchors ; but 
we might as well have anchored in mid-ocean as far as any 
shelter from the storm was concerned. We seemed to be 
in an eddy, formed by the flood that came down Big River 
and the point of rocks. 

Fortunately the anchors had taken a good hold and held 
the vessel fast. As she swung around, her keel was not 
twenty feet from the rocks. The storm increased in vio- 



SEEKING A FORTUNE 35 

lence as darkness came on. The shore was a perpendicular 
bluff, from forty to fifty feet high, with the exception of the 
lower point of rocks at our stern, and to go ashore was a 
certainty of total wreck. Only ten days before, the schooner 
Anderson had gone ashore at the same place and all hands 
were drowned. The wrecked schooner lay about one hun- 
dred and fifty feet from us, with the waves breaking over 
her. All night long the men on shore were watching with 
ropes to render us assistance, should we be so unfortunate 
as to be driven ashore. We could communicate with them 
through speaking trumpets, but they could do nothing to 
help us. Every one of us were on deck all night, drenched 
to the skin, and expecting to be driven ashore every mo- 
ment. Thus we passed the night. 

At daylight the storm had increased, the waves were 
higher, and now and then a wave would break over us. All 
day long the storm continued with unabated fury, and when 
night came on not one of us expected to live to see daylight 
again. At dusk the wind, rain and waves seemed higher 
than ever, and, to make matters worse, huge redwood and 
pine logs came down with the flood in Big River and circled 
about us in the eddy in which we lay, pounding and grating 
against our sides and threatening to break our anchor chains 
as well as to punch a hole in the hull of the vessel. With 
these added dangers threatening us, we were indeed in a 
hopeless condition, and it seemed almost impossible that we 
could get safely out of it. There was a number of pike poles 
in the hold, and the captain had them brought up and set 
us all to work to fight the logs to keep them from injuring 
us. We all worked with a will to save the ship, and the 
captain furnished us with plenty of Jamaica rum to keep 
up our courage. Some of the logs were ten to fifteen feet 



36 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

in diameter, and it seemed as though they would surely 
crush our vessel or tear the anchors loose. 

About two o'clock in the morning the wind ceased and 
it stopped raining, but the waves were as heavy as ever, and 
the logs continued to come down the river, keeping us con- 
stantly at work to fight them off. Our only safety was to put 
to sea, if we could, but it was doubtful whether a boat could 
live in such a sea. At about eight or nine o'clock a land 
breeze sprang up, strong enough, the captain thought, to 
drive us out to sea. We therefore raised one anchor and 
hoisted a sail, which filled well and held her steady. Then 
we raised the other anchor, and then began a great struggle. 
It seemed impossible that we could make the open sea, but 
on hoisting more sail she began to make a little headway, 
and we were soon safe in open water. We hugged each 
other and danced for joy. The old captain thanked us all, 
treated us to grog, and ordered the cook to give us the best 
meal he could prepare. We were almost famished with 
hunger, as we had had nothing to eat but sailor biscuit since 
the storm began, forty hours before. 

In twenty-four hours the sea was calm again, and we 
headed once more for our port, but that night another storm 
arose from the southeast and carried us in a northwesterly 
direction, far out to sea. The second day the wind blew 
so hard that it tore every sail to ribbons that we had hoisted, 
and seemed to increase during the night. All hands were 
at work trying to bend a new sail, when the second mate 
fell overboard and was drowned. There was no chance to 
save him, as no boat could live for a moment in that storm. 
His frantic cries for help will ever ring in my ears, but we 
had to leave him to the mercy of the waves. This storm, 
continued for several days, and when the captain was able 



SEEKING A FORTUNE 37 

to see the sun and learn our whereabouts we were about a 
thousand miles west of land. With a tolerably fair wind 
the captain started for shore again, and we made good head- 
way until there arose another storm that drove us further 
north and tore our sails to rags. 

Finally we sighted land at the northern end of Van- 
couver's' Island, with snow apparently of immense depth 
down to the coast line. That day we were caught in a calm 
when about six miles from the breakers and were fast drift- 
ing ashore. We had never seen our old captain so fright- 
ened before. We were helplessly borne towards the break- 
ers, till we were only two and a half miles off, with the sea 
breaking over the rocks in plain sight and hearing. Every 
sail was hoisted that we had left, but they hung limp and 
lifeless, and it seemed inevitable that we must go on the 
rocks. The water was too deep for our anchor, and we had 
now drifted within a mile of the breakers, when a little puff 
of wind sprang up, just strong enough to check our course, 
and we held our own against the tide that was running m 
towards the land. After an hour of suspense, the wind 
began to fill our sails, and increased until we were safe 

again. 

Once more we headed for port, but that night the wmd 
blew a gale from the north, and it was so cold that it cov- 
ered the chains with ice, and loaded the brig so heavily for- 
ward that she lay in the water with the stern three or four 
feet higher than' the bow. After sunrise the next morning 
the weather moderated somewhat, and she was soon cleared 
of ice, but the gale continued and that day made ribbons of 
the last whole set of sails we had left. When we started 
from San Francisco we had three whole sets of sails aboard, 
and now not a whole piece of sail was left. The wind was 



38 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

favorable and we made rapid progress toward our destina- 
tion. We arrived without further mishap on December 
26th, after twenty-two days of the stormiest voyage in the 
log of the Glencoe. 

We soon began our work, and, though it rained half of 
the time, we were comfortably housed in tents near the mill 
on the Point. There were about one hundred men at work 
there, besides about fifty Indians. A hunter furnished elk 
and deer meat for the camp. Elk were abundant in the for- 
ests, and at times we saw herds of a hundred or more. Deer 
were plentiful, so it was not a hard matter to keep us well 
supplied with meat. One ounce of gold was paid for a deer 
and two ounces for an elk, or sixteen and thirty-two dollars, 
respectively. 

Grass was six inches high in January, and the weather 
was more like April and May in New York. Game of all 
kinds was abundant. Wild strawberries were ripe the first 
of March, and it seemed like a paradise to us. Our nearest 
neighbors were at Albion River, about twenty miles away. 
The foothills were covered with pine and redwood forests. 
Some of the redwood trees were of gigantic size, averaging 
fifteen to twenty feet in diameter — too large to be utilized 
at that time, as there were no mills in the country that could 
cut logs of that size. We had fine weather most of the time 
during the months of January and February, but March 
came in very wet. During the winter of 1852-53 there was 
an immense fall of rain all over California. 



CHAPTER IV. 



LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS. 



On the 3d of March, 1853, I was twenty-one years of 
age. On the 17th I took passage on the familiar old brig 
Glencoe for San Francisco. I had not seen a white woman 
for nearly four months, and the captain's wife was a pleas- 
ant sight to my eyes. She was not only an ordinary-looking 
woman, but past middle age; but, then, she was a white 
woman. 

We were but twenty-four hours in making the trip to 
San Francisco, while we were twenty-two days in making 
the same trip from San Francisco to Mendocino. On my 
arrival at the bay I at once went to the office of Harry 
Meiggs, who at that time was the most popular man in San 
Francisco. He was paymaster for the mills at Mendocino. 
He accepted my order on him, but informed me that he paid 
orders only at ten days after sight. I offered him a discount, 
but he would not pay me before the time was up, so I got 
my order cashed at a broker's at a heavy discount. I left 
San Francisco on the 23d of March for Marysville. When 
I arrived at »Sacramento I went uptown, and the steamer 
left me, taking my baggage ; so I awaited the steamer's re- 
turn to recover it. 

I left Sacramento the 28th of March. It had been raining 
heavily while I was in Sacramento, and the river was rising 

39 



40 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

rapidly. On the way up from Sacramento to Marysville the 
river was from twenty-five to fifty miles wide; in fact, the 
whole valley was under water, and the only way we could 
follow the main channel was to keep between the tops of 
the Cottonwood trees that grew along the banks of the river. 
Drowned horses and cattle and wreckage of all kinds went 
floating by. We passed men sitting on the tops of their 
cabins, but they generally had a boat, waiting for their 
houses to float away, or the water to go down. Some came 
on board the steamer and were taken to Marysville with us. 
When we arrived at Marysville the water was from one to 
three feet deep in every house and store in town, and we 
landed in Adams' Express office with the water a foot deep 
on the floor. Everybody lived in the second story, or on 
top of the houses, and it was impossible to get a meal in 
the town. A Norwegian sailor and myself concluded to 
leave town, via the road to Downieville, on the North Yuba 
River. After wading in water from one to two feet deep 
for two or three miles we finally reached dry land ; but the 
rain came down in torrents and we were in a sad plight. It 
took us all day to reach the Eleven-Mile House, where we 
got something to eat and a fire to dry ourselves. 

Just before sundown the clouds broke away and the sun 
set in a clear sky. We stopped all night, and the next morn- 
ing set out for Downieville, in Sierra County, at that time 
one of the richest mining districts on the Yuba River. 
We passed the Galena House and the Dobbins Ranch, and 
stopped all night at Bullard's Bar. The next morning we 
crossed the river in a dugout, which was carried four or 
five hundred feet down stream, and we came near being 
drowned. However, we got over with a no more serious 
result than a good ducking. This was March 30th, and we 



LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 41 

had a hard day's tramp, but at last reached the Mountain 
House and stopped overnight. The next morning we went 
down the mountain, with the snow thirty feet deep on each 
side of us, the trail having been worn and washed by the 
rain and melting snow down to the ground. We soon 
reached Goodyear's Bar, and that day arrived at the famous 
Downieville mine. I looked about for a couple of days, then 
bought tools and provisions, and on April 4th I did my first 
day's work at mining and took out enough gold to pay for 
my board. 

Then I went prospecting with my sailor friend, took up 
a claim, and we washed out four or five dollars. But unfor- 
tunately I was taken ill, and in a short while my money was 
all gone. On the first day of May I had to pawn my clothes 
to pay my board. I continued to work a little now and then, 
but was badly discouraged, and sometimes wished myself 
back home. Finally my sailor friend got an old tent, and 
we went about a mile up the South Fork of the North Fork 
of the Yuba, took up a claim, and went to mining for our- 
selves. But our claim was poor, and it rained a great deal. 
Provisions were very high, and we had to take out consider- 
able gold to pay for our food. We struggled along until 
about the middle of June, when we threw up the claim, and 
I got a job at four dollars per day and board at the north 
end of LTardy's Flat. My sailor friend I never saw again. 

On the 19th of June I got the first letter from home, it 
being over eight months since I left. I had sent home the 
money that I had borrowed to come to California, and this 
was the first news that it had been received. Our work in 
the tunnel was very hard, but I was in fair health and I 
stood it pretty well. About this time a felon appeared 



42 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

on my thumb and I lost my job. After a week's idleness I 
went to work at seventy-five dollars a month and board. A 
short time after this I went into a wing dam scheme to work 
the bed of the river. We finally got it in, and on the first 
day's washing took out four hundred dollars from a "pot 
hole." After that we did not make expenses. Rather rough, 
after working weeks in water up to our waists to get the 

dam in. 

I kept my job of seventy-five dollars per month after the 
wing dam gave out, and worked until I had my debts paid. 
Then I went down to Cox's Bar and hired out for one hun- 
dred dollars per month, working the river bed. About this 
time I saw an Indian hung at Downieville for killing a 
Chinaman. 

The miners generally went to town every Sunday, and 
this is what I saw one Sunday on the street of Downie- 
ville. There were two large gambling saloons in the town, 
about one hundred and fifty feet apart, with the eternal 
chink, chink, chink ringing in your ears from morn to mid- 
night. All stores were open, full of miners buying supplies. 
On the opposite side of the street from one of the gambling 
houses was a noisy auctioneer selling all sorts of notions, 
and almost in front of a gambling house was a minister of 
the gospel preaching from the top of an empty whisky barrel 
to a good-sized audience. A short distance down the street 
was a dance hall in a house of prostitution, with the music 
and the noise of scuffling feet plainly heard. On the street 
a man was riding furiously up and down on a mule that he 
was offering for sale to the highest bidder. Bands of music 
at each gambling house were vieing with each other in their 
efforts to attract customers, and the blare of ragtime melo- 
dies filled the air. Whisky, as well as clay pipes and tobacco, 



LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 43 

was free at the tores to all patrons, and they could help 
themselves. 

Every man had a revolver slung to his hip, yet everything 
was moving along smoothly in this pandemonium, with 
scarcely a drunken man in sight. I leaned against a post 
and reflected. Never before or since have I witnessed such 
a sight. Not a decent woman could be seen in this throng 
of perhaps three or four thousand persons, comprising men 
of every civilized nation on earth. At no other place could 
there be such a sight at this time ; nowhere else such a cos- 
mopolitan crowd. 

Up to this time I had heard very little from home, and 
the influences of my early training were getting weaker, 
and I had become infatuated with gambling to such an ex- 
tent that I could not pass a gambling hell with a dollar in 
my pocket that it did not burn, so to speak, until I had 
staked it to win or lose. No vice is so fascinating as gam- 
bling, none so hard to break. 

One Sunday, when in town, I received two letters from 
my father filled with good advice, but nevertheless I vis- 
ited the gambling house and played until my last dollar 
was gone, then started for home alone. On my way I sat 
down at the side of the trail and read my letters again, then 
began to think over my condition. What was I doing? 
What course was I pursuing? I was friendless, penniless, 
and almost hopeless of ever seeing home or friends again. 
Again I read the letters, and then and there I firmly resolved 
never to gamble again. I had no further temptation until 
the next Sunday, which I looked forward to with some 
anxiety, as I wished to test my power to resist. I went to 
my usual place at the gambling table with my week's wages 
in my pockets, ready for the trial. I won the battle, but it 



44 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

was a terrible ordeal. The succeeding Sunday I had a simi- 
lar experience, but stuck firmly to my resolution, and I have 
never gambled since. 

About this time I invested in a lottery scheme, holding 
about twenty tickets. The first prize was a thousand dollars 
in fifty-dollar slugs, and the second prize a five-hundred- 
dollar watch and chain. I held the ticket that won the sec- 
ond prize, which did me good service a few weeks after, 
when I had typhoid fever and got out of money. Wells, 
Fargo & Co. Express gave me two hundred and fifty dollars 
on the watch alone, which saved me from much suffering 
during my illness. 

^ I lost my job at Cox's Bar, but I found a vacant claim, 
which I took up. I commenced working it with a rocker, 
making three to eight dollars per day. My appearance was 
rather boyish, as I had no beard, and was somewhat under- 
sized, not having got my growth yet. The miners at Cox's 
Bar and Snake Bar called me ''boy," and I was probably 
the youngest person there. 

One day near noon, while at work on my claim, I noticed 
a man of very dark complexion, seemingly an Italian, with 
very black whiskers, and an ugly look on his face, standing 
on the bank above me, watching my actions very intently. 
I soon left my work and went to my cabin, near by, to get 
my dinner. I was gone about an hour, and when I returned 
I found the stranger at work on my claim. Pie had removed 
my rocker and tools to the bank and had taken full posses- 
sion of my claim. ''Hello!" says L 'What are you doing 
here?" 'This is my claim," he says, in fairly good English, 
"and I am going to work it. There's your tools." I was 
very much surprised, and we entered into an animated con- 
versation. He declared that he should hold that claim, an4 



LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 45 

threatened to knock me down with his shovel if I did not 
leave. "We'll see about that," I said, and I started in search 
of the man who told me that claim was vacant. I found him 
with two other men a short distance av/ay and explained 
the matter to them. They told me to get ten or fifteen men 
from the neighboring claims and tell them to report in half 
an hour for the purpose of holding an arbitration, and they 
would see that I had my rights. When I returned to my 
claim several miners had got there ahead of me, and very 
soon about twenty had assembled. My friend explained the 
laws of the camp and related all the circumstances of the 
case. Then one of the miners called upon the trespasser 
for his statement, but he made no reply. They told him to 
stop work and state his case. He answered that it was his 
claim and that he intended to work it. After a few mo- 
ments' consultation they appointed my friend as spokesman, 
who plainly informed the would-be claim-owner that they 
would give him five minutes to take his tools and leave the 
neighborhood at once. 

The spokesman held his watch, and for three minutes the 
man continued his work; but before the five minutes were 
up he had gathered up his tools and, with muttered curses, 
left as fast as his legs could carry him, and I was fully re- 
stored to my rights. This whole proceeding took but an 
hour, and I was again back to my work. 

This little episode shows how miners meted out justice 
and upheld one another in the days of 1853 in the mines 
of California. 

A more wide awake, intelligent, enterprising body of men 
could not be found on earth than the miners in the moun- 
tains of California at that time. All were between the ages 
of twenty and forty-five, and represented the highest type 



46 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

of manhood from every civilized country on the globe. To 
mingle with such a class of people was an excellent school- 
ing, and gave me an education of self-reliance, ambition, 
and a fund of knowledge that would be impossible to gain 
in any other way. 

A short time before I was ill with the typhoid fever I was 
working in a tunnel under a hill, with the bed rock nearly 
level, and a layer of pay dirt nearly two feet deep on the 
bed rock. The tunnel was over one hundred feet back from 
the shaft. A man with a wheelbarrow was wheeling the pay 
dirt to the shaft, while I was drifting and timbering up, as 
we advanced. We were on a nest of boulders, some of them 
very large, and I had to exercise a good deal of care in keep- 
ing them well timbered, so they would not cave down upon 
us. I came to a very large rock, that seemed to be flat on 
the under side and was up about five feet above the bed 
rock. It extended clear across the tunnel, and I had got the 
dirt from under it over four feet, but had not reached the 
edge of it in any direction. I tapped on it with the pick, and 
it appeared to be very solid, with no signs of falling. I 
thought I could risk it and go ahead. I picked into the 
bank for a moment or two, and stepped back for some rea- 
son, but no sooner got from underneath it than down it 
came, the front edge brushing my hat and fastening the toe 
of my boot to the ground. Had I remained where I was 
I would have been crushed to a jelly, for it was at least ten 
feet in diameter. Just why I stepped back I never could tell, 
for I had no idea of its falling without some warning well 
known to miners. My narrow escape made a lasting impres- 
sion upon my memory. 

Upon the first of December I was working more or less 
at Goodyear's Bar, Cox's Bar, and along the river. I then 



LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 47 

formed a partnership with J. A. McCuin and Doc Nelson. 
We started for Indian Creek Valley, and visited the Galena 
Hill, Railroad Gulch, Oak Valley, and Young's Hill mines, 
but water was very scarce. Although the rainy season had 
set in some time before, there was no water to wash with in 
these dry diggings. 

January i, 1854, found me at R. R. Hill, and while there 
I got a letter from home. I sold out my interest at R. R. 
Hill and started with Mack for Sand Hill to see my friend 
John Boyer, who had been holding for me for some time a 
claim which would have yielded an ounce of gold a day. 
He had written to me to come on, but I did not get his letter, 
and I lost the best thing I ever had thus far. On February 
24th, Mack and I decided to go to Allhouse Creek, in Ore- 
gon, but postponed the trip until spring on account of snow. 
So Mack concluded to visit a friend at Sacramento, while 
I went to San Francisco to remain until we thought it safe 
to start for Oregon by way of Crescent City, taking a 
steamer from San Francisco to that point. 

I remained in San Francisco until the 226. day of April, 
1854. I was working part of time while there, and helped 
cut Powell Street through from North Beach. Mack came 
down from Sacramento, and we took passage on board the 
little side-wheel steamer America for Crescent City, Del 
Norte County, Cal., on the 226. of April, arriving there on 
the 24th. Crescent City was a scattering town of three or 
four hundred inhabitants, with no harbor. We stayed over- 
night and started on our march over the mountains the next 
morning. We went through the red woods of Smith's River 
and journeyed on to Illinois Valley and Allhouse Creek, 
some sixty miles distant. When leaving Smith's River we 
had to go over a mountain twenty miles, without a drop of 



4^ ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

water. The trail was very good, but it went over long 
stretches of bare rock that had taken up the heat from the 
noonday sun, and it burned our feet almost to a blister. 
They became so sore that we could hardly walk. Just be- 
fore sundovv^n we came to the long-looked-for spring of 
water, and there we rested and slaked our thirst and cooled 
our feet. We then hobbled on to a farm house in the valley 
of the Illinois River, where we were glad to stay overnight. 
My feet did not get over that trip for years. The next day 
we passed Sailors' Diggings, and reached the mouth of All- 
house Creek, Oregon, the 27th of April. 

After resting a few days we went to work at three dollars 
a day, the standard wages on the Creek at that time. We 
were very much discouraged by the prospect. I bought a 
share in a claim with an old sailor and we made some money. 
One day in passing some sluice boxes where the water was 
turned off I found a small speckled trout, and by this dis- 
covery knew that there must be trout in the creek. The 
stream was very muddy all the week, but on Sundays it 
cleared. I always carried fish hooks and lines with me, and 
the next Sunday found me cutting a rod, catching grass- 
hoppers for bait, and making ready for fishing. There was 
a nice pool in front of some miners' cabins, where perhaps 
a dozen or fifteen miners lived, many of whom were doing 
their week's washing. They all set in to guy me, as no one 
supposed there was a fish in the creek. One said, "Oh, 
come up here and fish in my tub." *'Yes," says another, 
"you might catch a good, fat grayback; he's lousy, any- 
how.'' I stood their jeers and remarks without a word until 
I got ready to try the pool, when to their great astonish- 
ment I landed a fine six-ounce beauty. All rushed to see it, 
and many a cheer went up for me, as the laugh was now on 



LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 49 

my side, and it was my turn to do a little chaffing. I con- 
tinued down the stream for a mile and brought back eight 
pounds of as fine trout as one could wish to see. The next 
Sunday the creek was lined with fishermen, and in about six 
weeks it was hard to get even a bite. 

Cinnamon, grizzly, and black bear were very plentiful on 
the mountains, each side of the creek, and the miners that 
ventured to disturb them in their haunts had many a hard 
encounter with them. 

The winter before, the Rogue River Indians had tried to 
drive the miners off the creek, and there was some hard 
fighting there. It was a hard place to winter, and McCuin 
and I decided to go to Jacksonville, and if we found nothing 
to suit us there to go on south to Yreka. 

My claim was still paying very well, but nearly worked 
out. I traded it for an Indian pony, packed all our tools, 
blankets and clothes, and with my partner started out on 
foot for Jacksonville, Oregon, where we arrived September 
I2th. I had a letter from Mack requesting us to come to 
Yreka, and we left September 14th for that town. The next 
night we stopped at the foot of the Siskiyou Mountains with 
an old rancher, and paid one dollar a piece to lay on the floor 
and find our own blankets. We got plenty of feed for the 
pony, and started to climb the Siskiyou Range, which 
brought us into California again. We saw no one until we 
got into the Klamath Valley. Here we found plenty of 
ranches. The scenery from the Siskiyous is grand. Old 
Mount Shasta, with its fourteen-thousand-feet-high, snowy 
summit, is one of the grandest peaks on the American con- 
tinent. Rough, wild and silent were the immense forests 
of fir, pine and cedar that we traveled through, and Nature 
in all her grandeur held full sway. 



go ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

We arrived at Yreka September i6, 1854, after a tramp 
of one hundred and twenty miles from Allhouse Creek. I 
found Mack at work in Yreka, a mining town of consider- 
able importance at that time. It was in the centre of the 
Yreka flats, where thousands of miners were at work on the 
various creeks and gulches for many miles around. 

The town was full of life and thrift, with a sta.5e to the 
lower country every day. Plere we concluded to tie up and 
try to make something. A party of six entered into a part- 
nership and bought a claim on Canal Gulch, about one and 
a half miles northwest of town. We soon had a cabin built, 
lumber sawed and everything ready for work. There were 
about three hundred miners on the gulch. We could wash 
out no gold until the rains came, but we had plenty of work 
stripping off about ten feet of soil before we came to pay 
dirt. All worked with a will, and in a short time we were 
ready to begin washing. My partners' names were Frank 
and Bill Patterson, old man Hollyall, from Maine ; John 
Van Order, from Ithaca, N. Y. ; Horace P. Cummings, also 
from Maine, and an old Mexican soldier and also a sailor, 
but one of the best men I ever knew. McCuin was with us 
until March, 1855. when Van Order and myself bought him 
out, and he started for the States. Old man Holly was the 
last one to sell to us three. We stuck to the old claim, which 
was always good for five to eight dollars a day to the man. 
We bought and sold other mines, hired men to work them, 
and kept very busy. One summer I attended the w ater ditch 
for the Yreka Company, at one hundred and fifty dollars 
per month. The portion of ditch that I was attending ran 
near a den of rattlesnakes, and I killed from three to six 
every day, some of them very large ones. 

Cummings, Van Order and myself lived in one cabin to- 



LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 51 

gether for two and a half years without a word of dispute 
or any ill feeling. We had some difficulty in getting rid of 
old man Holly, but succeeded by paying him five hundred 
dollars for his interest. Here we took turns in cooking, a 
week at a time. I think that was the happiest time of my 
life while in California. Some of the time v/e made money 
fast, and at other times nothing, especially in the summer 
when we had no water, though we managed to pay expenses. 
I sent my father money now and then to help him along in 
his old age. Many miners went home from Canal Gulch in 
those days, and the books, of all kinds, that they left fell 
to me. They were of all kinds, novels predominating. His- 
tory, school books, religious books, scientific works, phonog- 
raphy, and, in fact, something on almost all subjects. I 
thus had a rich store of knowledge to draw from, and I 
improved my time to best advantage. Pitman's Manual of 
Phonography was among my treasures, and I studied it 
enough to get the corresponding style so I could write and 
read it quite readily. 

Many amusing incidents occurred while I was at Canal 
Gulch. Cummings had a good double-barreled shotgun, 
but never used it except to fire a salute on the Fourth of 
July. But I was fond of hunting, and during the winters 
I kept our larder well supplied with quail, grouse, rabbits, 
and now and then a wild goose. Deer and mountain sheep 
were plentiful in the mountains, but it was too far away 
to reach them on foot. 

A colony of Kanakas from the Sandwich Islands had a 
permanent camp but a short distance from our cabin, and 
some of them were quite intelligent. There were two 
women, two or three children, and about fifty or sixty 
men in the colony. Nearly all were engaged in mining, but 



52 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

they lived according to their former customs, pol and baked 
puppies being their principal diet. We were their nearest 
neighbors, and, being on good terms with them, frequently 
got an invitation to eat 'poi and baked dog. The way they 
cooked a dog was as follows. They built a small log fire 
and piled large cobblestones upon it until they became very 
hot. In the meantime they dug a hole in the dry earth, 
shaped like the inside of a bowl, then put in a layer of hot 
stones, then a double layer of cabbage leaves. On top of 
these they laid the dog, neatly dressed, and covered it with 
cabbage leaves, then a layer of hot stones over all, then 
more leaves, and carefully covered the whole with earth 
or sand, and left it to bake for two hours. When served it 
looked like a young pig roasted to perfection. They in- 
vited me to eat some of it, and I finally took a small piece 
and found it very much better than I expected. It tasted 
much like roast pig. I ate a little of the poi also, but did not 
relish that at all. 

Many of these Kanakas were anxious to learn English, 
and I told them that if not less than twenty would give me 
a quarter of a dollar apiece for two hours' teaching each 
evening, five nights in a week, they to furnish their own 
lights and a room and their own books, the money payable 
each night before school opened, I would teach them the rest 
of the summer. They soon had twenty-five scholars ready, 
so I went to town to secure the books needed, but did not find- 
quite enough to go around and supplemented them with a 
blackboard. Under my directions a cabin was fitted up, and 
the next week I opened the school. On the first night I had 
thirty pupils, ranging in age from eighteen to fifty-five years, 
and the most interesting set of pupils that any pedagogue 
ever faced, and I think the most earnest and obedient. Some 



LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 53 

learned very fast, others very slow, but the majority made 
good progress, and the school flourished so well that they 
built anew log schoolhouse and fitted it up with desks and 
benches. The following incident will show how earnest 
they were in their work: 

Some of the youngest and brightest of them were fond 
of whisky, and sometimes would come to school pretty full 
and create considerable disturbance. One named Jack, about 
twenty-four years of age, was generally the most trouble- 
some. One night we had more disturbance than usual, 
and at the close of the school I informed them that they 
must adopt some measures among themselves to see that 
the school was kept more quiet, or I would have to stop 
teaching them. The next Sunday morning they called a 
meeting and invited me to attend. I told them I wished 
to have nothing to do about it, but whatever they agreed to 
do must be done, and then we could go on with the school. 
I expected they would vote to expel any unruly member, 
by force if need be. But no. They voted, without a dis- 
senting vote, to fine every member who made any disturb- 
ance twenty-five cents, and the fine was to be paid to me. 
Of course this was satisfactory to me, and the school went 
on. I got a good many quarters from Jack, and some from 
four or five others who had taken a little too much fire- 
water before coming to school. 

I kept the school going for four or five months, and many 
of them learned to read and write English quite well, but 
the number of scholars had fallen off until I had but ten, 
and I closed the school. My pay had averaged about twenty 
dollars per week, but it was a little too hard on me to work 
all day and teach at night, and I was glad it was over. 

•We made money on our claim, but in our outside invest- 



54 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

ments we were not so fortunate. We bought for a few 
dollars a large claim on the Flats, a quarter of a mile north 
of Canal Gulch, termed dry diggings, with no water or 
any chance to get any except from the Eureka water ditch, 
which had just been finished, but no water yet. We pros- 
pected the ground thoroughly, but found nothing that 
would pay over three or four dollars a day to the man. Still, 
we thought we would try it again when we could get water. 
About a stone's throw from us lived a State of Maine 
Yankee, who drawled out his words in a slow and listless 
manner. One day this Yank came to our cabin and in- 
quired if we wanted to sell out our claim over there. We 
told him the price was three hundred dollars. 'Wal," said 
he, "ain't thet rather high ? I wouldn't buy onless ycu'd let 
me prospect a little." We told him to go ahead. We saw 
no more of him for six weeks, when he came around and 
said he didn't get much of a prospect, but he'd give us two 
hundred dollars for it. "No," we told him, "we would work 
it ourselves." "Wal, I'll give ye two hundred and fifty 
dollars fer it ; mebbe I can get wages out of it." We offered 
to split the difference. After much talk and hesitation, he 
said he guessed he'd take it and weighed out the dust to us 
and went away. When he got water he seemed to know 
exactly where to set his sluice boxes. He hired two China- 
men, and for three or four months he took out twenty dollars 
a day to the man. 

The next spring the same man was cutting wood in the 
top of a pine tree he had cut down. He had laid his coat 
on the stump and a buckskin purse with five hundred dollars 
in gold dust in it. Bob Whittle had a cow that was run- 
ning about at will, and, comirg up to the stump, soon had 
the purse in her mouth -hew'ng it np. The Yank looked up 



LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 55 

and took in the situation at once, and went for the cow, but 
was too late, as she had swallowed the whole thing as soon 
as she was disturbed. We notified Whittle at once and tried 
to buy the cow, but Whittle would not sell. He agreed that 
she might be watched for results, but after ten days passed 
without returns a price was set, and the miner bought the 
cow, which was killed, and the gold, except about twenty 
dollars, was found in her paunch. This incident went the 
rounds of the papers all over the United States. 

We continued to work the old claim with more or less 
success, but we were all anxious to return to our homes 
in the States. In those days no one ever thought of mak- 
ing a home in California. At Yreka and vicinity there were 
not more than five or six respectable women. Consequently 
there was no society. 

In 1856 several women came in from the States, among 
whom were Mrs. White, wife of Mr. White, of the firm 
of King & White, merchants of Yreka; also the wife of D. 
D Colton, then sheriff of Siskiyou County, and a few others 
whose names I have forgotten. By the way, there js a little 
unwritten history about D. D. Colton. the late S. P. K K. 
official who named the town of Colton, San Bernardino 
County. Cal., after himself. _ 

Dave Colton came to California with five or six others 
from Indiana or Illinois, across the plains, in 1852 or 53, 
and they commenced mining on the Yreka Flats a short dis- 
tance from town. Colton and work did not agree, and 
the other boys had to do it all. Colton was a good fellow 
n-,t vicious or intemperate, but simply lazy. He finally quit 
mining and went to town. He got a job of copying in a 
lawyer's office and managed to eke out a precarious living 
with some help from the boys he came out with. An elec- 



56 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

tion was to come off soon, and some one conceived the idea 
of running Dave Colton for sheriff of the county. Though 
none expected him to be elected, he received a good ma- 
jority. This was the turning point in Colton's career. The 
office was worth about fifty thousand dollars a year, and 
Colton was shrewd enough to make it pay all it was worth. 
He made a good sheriff and was well liked. He was for- 
tunate enough to be elected for a second term. He saved a 
great deal of money, made good investments, and built a 
theater and several substantial brick business houses that 
brought him in large rentals. 

While serving his second term a miner was killed in his 
cabin and the murderer escaped. Suspicion rested on a 
man who left very suddenly for the East, and Colton was 
sent after him. He was gone several months and visited 
his old home in the States. While there he got married 
and brought his wife back with him, but no prisoner. He 
charged the county seventeen hundred dollars for making 
the trip. This did not increase his popularity very much 
among the people, and politically he was played out. 

About this time an Indian war broke out at the head 
waters of the Sacramento River and about Klamath Lake. 
A number of miners and settlers had been killed by the 
Indians who had collected a large force near Klamath 
Lake. Volunteers were called for, and a company of a 
hundred men went from Yreka. They were gone about 
ten days, and were forunate to surprise and kill a large 
number of the Indians just at daylight one morning. This 
aroused the Indians and they challenged the whites to come 
out and fight them. Dave Colton was at Sacramento and 
was appointed a brigadier-general of volunteers by the 
Governor of the State, and ordered to take command at once. 



LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 57 

General Colton got to Yreka as soon as he could, and, call- 
ing for volunteers, secured quite a respectable force. About 
fifty or sixty miles out the scouts of the column found the 
Indians, and were driven back to the main column. General 
Colton at once made preparations to meet the enemy by 
establishing headquarters with his staff on the top of a 
mound, in which that part of the country abounds. After 
the general had got to the mound he sang out, *'Boys, charge 
those red devils and drive them back. I'll watch from this 
mound. Let me know if anything goes wrong." The boys 
attacked the Indians and drove them back, killing many, 
with a loss of only one man killed and two wounded. The 
general and staff returned alone, and the boys came in in 
twos and threes. The Indians quieted down soon after, and 
the war was over. Colton came to Sacramento, fell in with 
Huntington, Hopkins, Stanford, and Crocker, and during 
the rest of his life was connected with the S. P. R. R. 

During the winter of '55-'56 I and my partners were 
interested in four or five different claims, and I was 
made treasurer. Each day, or at the end of the week, the 
gold taken out was delivered to me, and every Sunday morn- 
ing it was divided and delivered to each shai-eholder. 

One Sunday morning, for some reason no one came for 
their gold, and I had between four and five hundred dollars 
worth to divide. Nearly all the miners went to town on 
Sunday. My partners had gone, and I wanted to go, but 
what should I do with the gold? I could not take it with 
me, and feared to leave it unless I could hide it in some 
secure place. Thieves were plentiful. In looking about the 
cabin I saw the coffee pot sitting on a little shelf above the 
fireplace, and concluded it would be as safe in that as any- 
where. So I dropped it in and set the pot back in its place 



58 ONE Of the people 

and went to town. One of my partners came home with me 
before night, and when we reached the cabin we found some 
one had been there and dug up the floor, turned our 
bunlcs inside out, and went through every box and place 
they could think of, evidently looking for hidden treasure. 
I jumped for the coffee pot the very first thing and found 
the purse all safe and sound. I notified all the boys at once 
to come and get their gold. They congratulated me on my 
good fortune. Nothing was missing, but the cabin was a 
wreck. The reason the boys did not come for their money 
that morning was that a duel was to be fought that day, and 
they all hurried off to town as soon as they got up. The 
duel was between two well-known gamblers who had fallen 
out about some woman, and a lot of wags encouraged them 
to fight a duel. 

The Hoag boys, who kept a livery stable; Dick French, 
who kept the Yreka House ; Tom Vance, the greatest lover 
of fun in town, and several others were the instigators 
of the whole thing. Two of them were chosen as seconds. 
They made all the arrangements, and the principals, as well 
as the public at large, thought it a bona Ude duel. At mid- 
day a smooth. spot of ground just over a low hill east of the 
town was measured off, and full instructions given. It was 
generally known about town that a duel was to come off, 
as a report was circulated that the officers of the town in- 
tended to break it up and arrest not only the principals, 
but all other persons on the ground. For this reason not 
more than a hundred of us were at the fight. Everything 
was carried out according to the code. Pistols were ex- 
amined, loaded, and handed to the principals, who were 
placed back to back, thirty paces apart, and at the word 
"Three" were to wheel and fire. If neither of them were 



LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 59 

hit they were to go through the same performance again. 
One of the men seemed a httle shaky, but did not weaken, 
and they went through the exchange of shots all right, and 
were about to make the second exchange when some one 
shouted, ''Officers !" and we all scattered in every direction 
to avoid arrest. 

The general opinion was that it was a real duel, but I 
was informed by Tom Vance, as we were riding home to- 
gether on the same steamer a year or more after the duel, 
that it was a fake, and that the pistols were loaded with blank 
cartridges, though unknown to the principals, and the whole 
thing worked exactly as intended. One of the principals 
left town soon after, as he was told by one who knew the 
true state of affairs how the matter really stood, and he 
could not stand to face the jeers that he expected from his 
comrades when the real truth of the affair came out. 

The next winter I was a witness of a genuine prize fight 
that occurred only a stone's throw from our cabin in the 
center of Canal Gulch. One day while it was snowing, 
about fifty men suddenly made their appearance and com- 
menced clearing away the snow, which was a foot and a 
half deep, from a level piece of ground on the upper end 
of our claim. They staked and roped a twenty-four foot 
ring for a prize fight. The purse was one hundred dollars. 
It was a cold, raw, stormy day. There were about seventy- 
five of us, so that we made only a single line just outside 
the ropes. An Englishman and an Irishman of about thirty 
years of age were the men that were to fight. The referee 
and seconds had been chosen before they left town. Time 
was soon called and they fought to a finish in forty-three 
rounds. A more brutal, disgusting affair and sickening 
sight I never witnessed before. One of tlie eyes of the 



6o ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

Englishman was closed entirely, and the Irishman broke his 
wrist and lost the fight. Both were covered with blood and 
both badly punished. I have never had a desire to see a 
prize fight since. 

A man by the name of B. W. Converce owned a claim 
adjoining ours, right above us, on Canal Gulch. He lived 
alone, and we never saw him away from his claim or cabin. 
One day I thought I would go to see him, and I found him 
lying on his bunk with a book. He treated me very pleas- 
antly and asked me to call again. I saw no more of him 
for some months, when one day he was helped by some men 
to his cabin, and we found that he had been bitten by a rattle- 
snake while on the Klamath River trail, a few miles north of 
us. He related the affair to me as follows : "I was going 
along the trail on the side of the mountain a short distance 
from the river (it was the month of August, 1855), when I 
heard the familiar sound of the rattler, and almost immedi- 
ately felt a sting in the calf of the leg. I killed the snake 
and started on, but had gone but a few steps when every- 
thing seemed to darken and I could not stand, so I lay down 
near a very small stream of water trickling down the side 
of the mountains. My thirst soon became intolerable, and 
I scooped out with my hand a little hole near my face, 
which soon filled with water, and I could turn my head over 
and drink. The pain was terrible, and my leg was swollen 
to double its ordinary size, and I was fast becoming uncon- 
scious. I knew that there was no one within a mile of me, 
and I had not strength enough to call if there had been. I 
knew I would soon die if I did not get help, so I managed 
to get my knife out and open a small blade, with which I 
cut one of the veins in my arm. I felt the blood running, 
and soon after lost all sense of feeling, and felt like going 



LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 6i 

asleep. This happened about four o'clock in the afternoon, 
and when I woke up or came to my senses it was about seven 
o'clock in the morning. How long I had been there I knew 
not. I was not suffering with pain so much, but was so weak 
that I could not stand. My head seemed quite clear, and I 
could see a cabin and I thought some men near it at work 
about a mile up the river. I started to crawl to them, and 
with the greatest exertion I managed to get a little over 
half way to them by five o'clock in the afternoon. I finally 
attracted their attention, and they came to me and almost 
carried me to their cabin. They were foreigners and could 
not speak a word of English." Mr. Converce was laid up 
from the effects of the bite for several months before he 
could do any work. Everybody on the Gulch tried to make 
him as comfortable as possible and helped him out. On our 
claim we had two cabins, and we gave him one of them, 
it being very much more comfortable than his own, and it 
was only about ten feet from the one we occupied. 

He was, in many ways, a most remarkable man, and for 
over a year and a half I was with him more or less. Every 
day I learned to love and respect him more than ony other 
man I had met while on the Pacific Coast. He was the best 
educated man I had ever known. He could read and write 
seven different languages. He was a classmate of Senator 
Edmunds of Vermont and his brother, D. Edmunds, of the 
same State. After leaving college he taught school in New 
York State, Vermont, and Ohio. His health failed, and he 
went on a whaling voyage of three years' duration. He 
had been a soldier in the Indian war of Florida, was a farmer 
near Stockton, Gal. ; went to Australia in 1852, where he 
spent two years in the mines, and then returned to California 
and drifted to Yreka. He was a regular bookworm, always 



62 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

studying. I have seen him cook a meal entire with a book 
in one hand, and then lay it down by his plate to read while 
eating. Being of an enquiring turn of mind and much given 
to books myself, Mr. Converce was a boon companion to 
me, and I gained more knowledge from him than all the 
schooling I ever had. 

In 1856, when the news of John C. Fremont's nomination 
for the Presidency reached the Coast (there was no tele- 
graph across the continent in those days), Mr. Converce 
espoused the cause of Republicanism and was the first man 
on the Gulch to advocate the election of Frem.ont. He found 
a ready convert in me, and for two or three months we were 
the only Republicans on the Gulch out of three hundred 
voters. We worked hard to make votes, and Converce made 
one or two speeches that were marvels of eloquence, logic, 
and patriotism. When the polls closed we found there were 
forty votes for Fremont and Dayton, which we thought was 
a good showing with only one to start with. 

A few words as to my partners, with whom I lived for 
nearly two and a half years. John Van Order, whom I first 
met at Allhouse Creek, when mining with John S. Peck and 
Bill Buchanan, all came from Buffalo, N. Y. Van Order 
bought in with the rest of us on Canal Gulch. He was 
raised in Ithaca, N. Y., and learned the trade of iron molder. 
He worked in Buffalo at the same business. He had no 
education whatever, and I never knew him to read or write 
a word while I was with him. Yet he seemed to be well 
posted, used good language, was unusually bright, and natu- 
rally was the smartest man of the three. He was twenty- 
seven or twenty-eight years of age when I was with him. 
He was a very good worker and a most congenial com- 
panion. He had a most extraordinary memory, and when 



LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 63 

hearing an article read from a newspaper could almost repeat 
it the next day, word for word. 

Horace P. Cummings was much older, had a fair educa- 
tion, and was somewhat comical in his ways and sayings. 
He was a sailor for many years, and a soldier in the Mexican 
War under Scott. He was among the men that scaled the 
walls of Chepultepec and lived. The walls of the fortress 
had to be taken by ladder. As fast as one of our men 
showed his head above the wall he was shot and fell back. 
As Cummings reached the top of the w^all the attention of 
the Mexicans was attracted to the opposite side of the fort 
by an assault of our men from that direction, and he reached 
the top all right, followed by others as fast as they could 
climb the ladder. They overpowered the enemy and the fort 
was taken. Horace was a man of good habits, was always 
in good health and spirits, and the life of the cabin. His 
home was in Portland, Me. 

In the winter of 'S^'S? I sold out my interest to Mr. 
Converce and bought in a claim farther up the Gulch with 
a man by the name of Hall, but continued to live with John 
and Horace. The next spring they had the old claim pretty 
well worked out, and John and Horace started for the 
States. Cummings went to Portland, got married, and went 
into business there. Van Order I never heard of again. 

All winter I had been very much out of health, and was 
able to work but a part of the time. Hall bought into a 
claim on Greenhorn Creek and sold me his interest in our 
claim. Water was getting scarce in the Gulch and we could 
wash only a short time each day. On account of my failing 
health I concluded to sell and go home while I was able. 
So I prevailed upon Mr. Converce to buy me out, and I 
got ready to leave. Mr, Converce took out three thousand 



64 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

dollars more and left Yreka, as I was informed by Hall, 
about a year after. That was the last I ever heard of my 
old companion and tutor, for whom I have ever entertained 
the most profound respect and esteem. 

The last work I did was an hour each day when the 
water was turned ofY while the miners got their dinner. On 
cleaning up I had fifty-six dollars in gold for the six hours' 
work. I bade Mr. Converce goodbye and Vvcnt to town to 
learn which was the best route to San Francisco. The 
Indians had gone on the warpath again and robbed and 
killed several packers, both on the Jacksonville trail to 
Crescent City and over Scott's Mountain trail to Shasta. 
The stage to Shasta had stopped running and there seemed 
to be a very poor show to get away safely. The year before 
the Indians had given us trouble, and we had all turned 
out to repel a threatened attack, their signal fires being 
lighted on the mountains west and north of Yreka, but the 
trouble soon blew over. I consulted with my friend John S. 
Beck as to the best thing to do, as I wished to get away as 
soon as possible. We finally concluded that the route to 
Crescent City via the Klamath River was the best and safest, 
as there had been no Indians seen on that route ; but it was 
a very lonely trail, with only one cabin between Scott's Bar 
and Indian Creek, a distance of seventy miles. 

To take this route I would have to have a horse or mule 
that could make the seventy miles in a day. After looking 
about town we found a big mule, which I bought with saddle 
and bridle, and the next morning I set out for Scott's Bar, 
twenty-five miles distant. Many had tried to discourage me 
by representing the trip as very unsafe to try alone, and 
that I had better wait ; but I was well armed and concluded 
to go and see Mr. Crooks, the express agent at Scott's Bar, 



LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 65 

with whom I was acquainted, and he would probably know 
whether it was safe to make the trip. After parting with 
Peck I made good time and reached Scott's Bar in about 
seven hours in very good shape. I saw Crooks and spent 
the night with him. While on the way over the mountains 
from Yreka to Scott's Bar I rode over snow that in some of 
the canyons was fifty feet deep, and also picked some flowers. 
As the snow slowly melted away the sun warmed up the soil, 
so that in a few days vegetation would spring up and flowers 
bloom but a few feet from the snow. 

The next morning I was up by daylight and ready to start 
at sunrise. My friend Crooks gave me all the information 
that he could, and remarked that I would have a long, lonely 
ride. With a parting goodbye I started out in good style 
and in good spirits. 

After riding about one-half a mile my old mule got it into 
his head that he had gone far enough and stopped, and much 
coaxing and spurring would get him no further. I dis- 
mounted, cut me a good whip and gave him a good lashing, 
readjusted the saddle and mounted, gave him the whip and 
spur, and off he went on the run. After going another half 
mile he stopped again. Dismounting, I went through the 
same performance, and off he went as before, but I had pro- 
vided myself with a new whip, and concluded that I would 
be ready for liim the next time. So when he slacked his gait 
I whipped and spurred and made him keep it up for two or 
three miles, then stopped him and got of¥ and petted him, 
pulled a bunch of grass, and gave him time to eat it. Then 
I mounted again, spoke to him kindly, and away he went 
and troubled me no more that day. We had become better 
acquainted. 

About four miles from Scott's Bar I passed the last 



66 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

miner's cabin. Just before noon I pulled up at Happy Camp, 
thirty-five miles on my way, and found three men there, 
but they had no news, and could give me no information 
about Indians or about the trail except that there was no 
one living between there and Indian Creek. No news was 
good news, and after resting a while I started on. The 
trail crossed the river a short distance from there and fol- 
lowed the edge of the river, except now and then it ran 
up the side of the mountains in order to pass some high 
bluff that could not be passed near the river. 

About a couple of hours after leaving Happy Camp I 
reached the river's edge, and, coming to a bunch of alder 
bushes at the mouth of a little gulch, I saw a little rivulet 
trickling down the mountain side into a clear pool of water. 
I was thirsty, and so was the mule. So dismounting, I 
kneeled down and drank my fill of the water, which was very 
clear and cold. Rising to my feet I happened to look 
through the bushes and saw a man's face and head, with one 
arm extended holding a double-barreled shotgun and slowly 
whetting a huge bowie knife with the other hand up and 
down the barrel of the gun. With a face covered nearly to 
his eyes with the blackest of whiskers, an old slouched hat 
on his head, and a pair of keen black eyes, with which he 
gazed at me very intently, he looked to me very mucn like 
a suspicious character. I turned my mule without taking 
my eyes off the ugly looking face. I then drew and 
cocked my revolver, and, slipping my hand up behind the 
saddle, I mounted. Not a word was said, but I concluded to 
face the music, and if he made a move toward me to get 
the drop on him first. I started on the trail, which wound 
around a little clump of bushes, determined to sell my life as 
dearly as possible, but when I made the curve the whole 



LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 67 

thing was revealed to me at once. There were two men 
sitting on the ground taking their lunch, and the one I had 
been watching had raised his gun so that I could pass, as 
they were close to the trail. My scare was over in an in- 
stant, and, taking in the whole situation, spoke to them 
pleasantly, but they could not understand either English or 
Spanish. I rode on, congratulating myself on the outcome 
and that I had found out for the first time that I had the 
courage and coolness to carry me through such an emer- 
gency without flinching. ' 

I passed some deserted ranches on the way to the mouth 
of Indian Creek, up which the trail led toward the mountain. 
At length the trail entirely disappeared. There had appar- 
ently been a landslide a short time before and wiped out all 
semblance of a trail for over one hundred feet. The mountain 
at that spot was at an angle of about forty-five degrees, and 
I could see the creek about six or seven hundred feet below 
me, but not more than three hundred feet up the mountains 
in the track of the slide, over which the footing for man or 
beast was very insecure. I could see the end of the trail 
on the other side, but how to reach it was the question. 
About two feet of the old surface was gone. I urged the 
mule down the bank, then dismounted, tied my lariat to the 
saddle and the mule's neck, and started to cross on foot, 
leading the mule. We both slid down the mountain pretty 
lively, but by our exertions worked at an angle toward the 
other side, and reached solid ground about two hundred feet 
more below our starting point. We struck the trail again 
and I mounted and went on, thankful that I had been for- 
tunate enough to cross so dangerous a place with safety. 

After traveling a mile or two the trail gradually came 
nearer the creek, which was a raging, roaring mountain 



68 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

stream, from thirty to fifty feet wide and running very 
swiftly. I knew this creek had to be crossed and wondered 
how it was to be done, but there was the well-used trail, 
and, having gained perfect confidence in my mule, con- 
cluded I could go where others had gone without fear. 
Just then I reached the stump of a tree, about two feet 
through, that had been felled directly across the creek, with 
a slight pitch toward the top. It was scored and hewed at 
on the upper side, and lay about twenty feet above the water, 
and had evidently been used for a bridge for pack trains. 
The flat top of the log was about eighteen inches wide at the 
butt, but was narrowed down to not more than six inches 
at the other end. I stopped, looked the situation over, and 
concluded to ride the mule over if he would go. The water 
was so swift under the log that I hardly think I could have 
walked it without losing my balance. Seeing no other course 
to pursue, and as it was almost night, I mounted the mule, 
gave him a slack rein, and started. The mule jumped upon 
the log, put his nose down close to it, and walked over as 
easily as a dog. Soon after I struck a well-traveled trail, 
and in half an hour was at the hotel at Indian Creek, seventy 
miles from the place of starting in the morning. 

This was quite a lively mining camp, just a half day's ride 
from Crescent City. In the morning I found a man who 
was going to Crescent City on horseback, and we set out 
together for our destination. The trail led us through the 
redwood bottoms of Smith's River, a large forest of the 
Sequoi Gigantia, which was of great interest to us. Stand- 
ing in the midst of this forest, where the trees were so close 
together that their tops completely shut out the sun, the 
daylight at midday has the appearance of a soft, hazy moon- 
light, or the light of day during an eclipse of the sun. 



LIFE IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS 69 

There was not a branch or Hmb for a hundred feet up the 
trunks of any of the trees, large or small, but the view 
does not extend more than three hundred feet in any direc- 
tion. The huge bodies of the trees, all so straight and close 
together, form a vast enclosing wall, towering toward the 
sky, affording an awe-inspiring sight of nature's handi- 
work that made me feel like a mere pigmy amid these levi- 
athans, as it were, of the forest. My mule, even, looked not 
more than half his normal size, and my companion had 
apparently shrunken to the size of a half-grown boy. These 
trees were from one hundred and twenty-five feet to two 
hundred and fifty feet high, some of them even more. The 
soil beneath was of the blackest hue, and my mule came 
near being mired in many places. 

After gazing awhile in mute astonishment and contempla- 
tion at the wonders and weird beauties of the scene, we 
moved on, but stopped to measure an average specimen of 
these trees, which was seventy-eight feet in circumference 
eight feet from the ground. 

After emerging from this remarkable forest in the low 
lands nearer the mouth of the river, we came to a vast field 
of ferns, or brakes, as they are sometimes called. These 
were so thick that a man could not, without difficulty, get 
through them. They were from six to ten feet high, and at 
the base as large around as your arm. I had heard it said 
that near San Jose they are so large that the children climb 
them and play on the branches, but these were the first I 
had seen. After leaving this fern forest we soon arrived at 
Crescent City, where I had landed a little over three years 
before. 

I put my mule in a livery stable and informed the propri- 
etor he was for sale, then went to a hotel and put up for 



70 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

three days, when the steamer for San Francisco would be 
due. By a little inquiry I learned the price of mules, and 
the next morning went out to the stable to see about selling 
mine. The proprietor said he would like to see how he 
moved, so I brought him out and saddled up. I mounted 
him and started off, but had not gone twenty paces before 
the mule stopped, turned about and started for the barn. 
Do whatever I could, he would not go. A small crowd soon 
assembled and began to give me advice in such ribald phrases 
as, "Build a fire under him," "Put sand in his ear," etc. 
Not hankering after too much publicity, I closed the circus 
by putting the mule back in the barn, and told the pro- 
prietor I would see him later. The next morning I went to 
the stable again and related to him the full history of the 
mule, my trip on him from Yreka, and asked him what 
he would give me for him. "Well," he says, after much 
talk, "I'll take him if you'll throw off twenty-five dollars 
from your price." "Give me the money ; he's yours," I said. 
The price was twenty-five dollars more than he cost me, so 
I went back to the hotel well satisfied and ready to proceed 
on my journey. 

The steamer came in due time and I was soon on my way 
to San Francisco, where I arrived June lo, 1857, in very 
poor health. I went to a doctor on Montgomery Street, 
who charged me a hundred dollars for his services. He 
gave me a prescription that cost me fifty dollars more. It 
was to last me till I got to New York. After I got home 
I had the same prescription filled for fifty cents. That was 
the difference between New York and California in the 
prices of drugs and medical service at that time. 



CHAPTER V. 

HOME AGAIN". 

On the 20th of June, 1857, I sailed for Panama on board 
the steamer Golden Age. She was a fine vessel and had 
recently been put on the line. I had been on board but a 
short time when I met Tom Bantz from Yreka, who was 
all alone, and we became companions for the voyage at 
once. Tom was a most congenial companion, full of wit, 
and always jolly. He was known at Yreka as one of the big- 
gest devils in town, but was well liked and had a great many 
friends. He had been constable for three or four years, and 
in those times that officer received a fat salary. 

My health began to improve before we had been to sea 
two days and continued to improve slowly every day. About 
the second day out to sea I happened to make the acquaint- 
ance of a man by the name of Bob Matteson, a deputy 
sheriff of Sacramento up to the time he left. We were look- 
ing at a huge shark that the sailors were trying to catch, and 
incidentally got into conversation and kept it up for three 
hours or more. So well pleased were we with each other 
that we soon felt like old acquaintances and were almost con- 
stantly together during the rest of the voyage. I soon made 
Bob acquainted with Tom Bantz, and the three of us flocked 
together most of the time. We stopped a short time at the 
port of Acupulco and went from there to Manzanillo, 

71 



y2 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

Mexico, for coal. Here we remained for fourteen hours or 
more, and the passengers were allowed to go ashore. Many 
took advantage of this privilege, but I did not feel able to 
go. Bob and Tom were among those who went ashore, and 
they came back with a large supply of oranges, limes, and 
pineapples, etc. Tom was loaded also with Mexican 
*'booze," as he called it, but not exactly drunk. His tongue 
was very loose, and when he got aboard he mounted the 
capstan and delivered one of the most witty and droll stump 
speeches imaginable, enlarging upon the sights of the town 
and its inhabitants and the Mexican population in general. 
The whole speech was so witty, and withal so gentlemanly 
and good-natured, that it created rounds of applause, and 
he soon had all the passengers aboard listening to him. He 
wound up with a very flattering tribute to the ladies on 
board. During the rest of the voyage Tom was the lion of 
the ship and was in demand for his stories and drollery at 
all times. Everybody knew Tom by the time we reached 
New York. 

Our voyage down the coast was a very pleasant one, and 
by the time we reached Panama my health was very good. 
We arrived the morning of the Fourth of July, 1857, and 
took the cars immediately for Aspinwall. The now his- 
toric ship, 'The Star of the West," the first ship fired on 
by the rebels in the Civil War, was at the dock when we 
arrived, though she was not to sail till night. All the pas- 
sengers were to remain on shore until an hour before sail- 
ing, except the sick, which were very few. 

It being our Independence Day, the sailors and marines 
from a couple of our war vessels were allowed to come 
ashore with the passengers. In the town were a lot of 
Jamaica negroes who had been working on the railroad, 



HOME AGAIN 73 

and more than a usual number of natives, and there were 
pretty lively times. Some of our sailors got into trouble 
with the natives and Jamaica negroes that ended in a fight, 
but was partially quelled by orders for every sailor and 
marine to report on board ship at once. But there was bad 
blcod between the Jamaicans and the natives and the fight 
was kept up. A few firearms were used, but coal, bottles, 
and stones were the weapons generally in use. There were 
about one hundred Jamaica negroes engaged and twice as 
many natives, all within the space of three or four hundred 
feet along the beach in front of the main street of the town. 
The sidewalk and buildings were covered and held by the 
steamer passengers, all armed with six-shooters. 

At one time the natives threatened to attack the American 
passengers because they cheered the negroes when they 
seemed to have the best of it, but somehow they changed their 
minds when we all drew our guns and told them to pitch in. 
Word was sent from the war vessels that if a single Ameri- 
can was molested they would open their guns on the town. 
They threatened us no more, but the fight went on between 
the negroes and the natives until three were killed and about 
fifty wounded, then it slackened, and soon all was quiet 
again. It was the greatest fight I had ever seen, and one 
in which I cared not who whipped. 

There was to be a first and second gun fired to notify the 
passengers to come aboard. At the end of the fight Bob 
and I went into a billiard hall for a game and did not hear 
the first gun. When the last gun was fired we thought that 
it was the first until the proprietor, who was an Ameri- 
can, warned us. We ran as fast as our legs could 
carry us, and just reached the plank as they were hauling 
it aboard. A quarter of a minute more and we would have 



74 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

been left. Tom was the first to greet us and congratulated 
us on our racing qualities. 

Our accommodations on board The Star of the West were 
not so good as on the Golden Age, as it was more crowded. 
On the third night out from Aspinwall, as Bob and I were 
sitting on the wheel house aft, at about twelve o'clock at 
night, a thick smoke came up, seemingly from the fire-room. 
We went forward and found about a dozen passengers on 
deck all collected about the entrance of the fire-room. The 
smoke was pouring out in a dense mass. That there was 
a fire in the hold no one doubted, but not a man said a word 
or made an alarm. The first mate drew his revolver and 
swore that he would shoot the first man that shouted **Fire 1" 
Just then one of the firemen came up and, on reaching the 
deck, fell unconscious. As soon as he could speak he told 
the mate that the coal bunkers were on fire. Other firemen 
came up and dropped on deck from exhaustion. The mate 
and the crew got the pumps at work as soon as possible 
and sent fresh men down to play on the fire with the hose, 
but it was more than two hours before one of the officers 
came up and reported the fire out. We were one hundred 
and fifty miles from land, with a strong chop sea running 
and not boats or life preservers enough to accommodate 
half the number of people aboard. Had anyone cried 
"Fire!" when the ship was enveloped in smoke and the 
passengers been aroused, there is but little doubt that there 
would have been a terrible loss of life. The mate was wise 
in his actions, and none of the passengers, except those who 
were up at the time, knew anything of the affair until the 
next morning. It was a very narrow escape. After it was 
all over Bob and I turned in, but not to sleep, for as soon 
as I got into a doze dreams of fire wo^ld arouse me, and J 



HOME AGAIN 75 

could not banish it from my mind. Nothing of importance 
occurred during the rest of the voyage to New York, where 
we arrived on the night of July 12, 1857. 

We made the trip from San Francisco to New York in 
twenty-two days and fourteen hours — in those days a very 
quick passage. Tom Bantz, Bob, and I put up at French's 
Hotel. The next day we shook hands with Tom and he left 
for his home in Indiana. Bob and I roomed together. The 
next day, being in need of clothing, we repaired to a Fulton 
Street clothing house, where we each purchased a suit from 
different clerks without the other knowing the selection 
made. When we opened our goods at the hotel we found 
the two suits exactly alike. We donned our new garments 
and strolled up Broadway. For the sake of a little amuse- 
ment we stopped at the office of Fowler, the phrenologist, 
to have our heads examined. The operator first examined 
mine, then Bob's. Feeling Bob's bumps awhile, he said, 
"Brothers, I presume?" *'No relation," says Bob. "Strange," 
says the examiner, "your heads are very much alike." "Never 
saw each other until about three weeks ago," said Bob, all 
of which I corroborated. When he got through with us, he 
said, "Gentlemen, I have never seen two heads so nearly 
alike before, and I would like to know your names and 
addresses." When we examined our charts at our room 
we found, to our surprise, but three points that varied, and 
these only slightly. "Well," said I, "that accounts for our 
taste regarding clothing and also our attachment for each 
other ever since we met on board the Golden Age." From 
that time I have been a firm believer in phrenology. 

Bob and I had some gold dust that we wished to exchange 
for currency, and on taking it to the assay office in New 
York found we had to wait a few days to get our cash. A 



^6 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

rather unusual affair occurred the next morning. Bob and 
I were sitting in the reading room, looking over the morn- 
ing papers, when a well-dressed man about thirty years of 
age, stepped up to us and said, "Gentlemen, please excuse 
me, but from some conversation I overheard between you 
I presumed that you, like myself, are strangers in the city. 
I take the liberty to introduce myself. I am a minister of 
the Gospel and am the pastor of a church in Newburyport, 
Mass., on a vacation for a couple of months. Here is my 
card," handing us each one. "Now, if there are any ques- 
tions you wish to ask me I will be happy to answer them 
if you will step into the barroom and have a drink with 
me." "Oh, we are not dry," says Bob; "at least I am not. 
My comrade can speak for himself." "But, gentlemen, I 
would be happy to have you join me." "If it is going to 
make a man happy," I said to Bob, "let us take a drink 
with him." "Well," said Bob, "Pm not in the habit of 
drinking with strangers, especially with ministers, and I am 
most too old to form new habits. Plowever, if our friend is 
unhappy, and our drinking will make him less so, I don't 
know that I should object." So we had a drink with the 
reverend gentlemen, whose name I have forgotten. 

We returned to the reading room, and he gave us a com- 
plete history of himself and his church, congregation, the 
girls, the good times he had had, and, in fact, confessed 
himself to be the greatest sinner of the whole flock. His 
appetite for whiskey was immense, and it required a large 
amount to slake his thirst. We went up the street to a 
billiard parlor, where Bob and I had a friendly game, while 
our ministerial friend was filling up with his favorite bev- 
erage. It was not long before we were obliged to take him 
back to the hotel and put him to bed, About dusk he was 



HOME AGAIN ^J 

up and looking for us. He was nearly sober, and insisted 
that we go to the theater with him. We finally consented, if 
he would agree not to drink anything. He said he would 
compromise on one drink before we started. He had his 
drink, and we went to a German opera on the Bowery. Our 
reverend friend amused himself by throwing bouquets to a 
very ordinary looking girl to whom he had taken a fancy. 
We brought up at the hotel all right about midnight. The 
next morning our friend was anxious to carry out the same 
performance of the day previous. So Bob and I concluded 
it best to have him get drunk as soon as possible, so that we 
could put him to bed out of the way. It did not take long. 
This was an every-day occurrence until Bob was ready to 
leave for home. The minister said he was going to Geneva, 
where he would stop off to visit some friends who lived 
fifteen or twenty miles south of that place. Bob told him 
he would go with him if he would abstain from drink on 
the way. This he agreed to do if he was allowed to take a 
parting drink with me. After this ceremony they started off. 
A letter from Bob a couple of weeks afterward gave me 
the history of their trip about as follows : In some way the 
reverend had smuggled a bottle of whisky aboard the train, 
but did not drink much, and coaxed Bob to make the visit 
to his friends and relatives with him. At Geneva the min- 
ister hired a livery team, to be returned the next Monday, 
that day being Saturday, and their visit was to be over 
Sunday. "After we left Geneva," Bob wrote, "the minister 
turned to me and said, 'Bob, I want you to represent an old 
classmate of mine at college, and I shall introduce you as 
such. This uncle and aunt I am going to see are very pious 
people and strict church members. They have a very fine- 
looking daughter, my cousin, to whom I wish you to pay 



^^ ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

the most of your attention while there, but I want you to 
swear that you will not say one word about your knowledge 
of me except as a classmate in our college days, and that 
you had accidentally met me on your return from California 
at New York. Leave all the rest to me. I shall probably 
have to preach there to-morrow and shall have to appear 
very devoted to my calling. Will you swear that you will 
not, by word or look, give me away ?' *I swear,' said I, and, 
being a lover of fun, the situation was getting to be very 
interesting to me. Not a drop had the reverend taken the 
day of our arrival, and as we had been shaved and neatly 
groomed before our start from Geneva we were a very good 
looking pair of ducks. The reverend was a very fine looking 
man and a genial companion on the trip. Before reaching 
our destination he had coached me very thoroughly in the 
part I was to play in the conspiracy, and I felt confident 
I could carry it through successfully. On our arrival at 
his uncle's they were all delighted to see us, and gave the 
minister a very warm welcome. They were well-to-do farm- 
ers, lived in good style, and we fared sumptuously. At the 
tea table the reverend asked the blessing, and the conversa- 
tion was mostly on church matters. The next morning we 
all went to church a couple of miles away, the daughter and 
I going in a single buggy. She was a charming companion, 
and I took a decided liking to her. 

''Our friend occupied a seat in the pulpit with the regular 
minister, while I sat in the family pew. I avoided, however, 
the eye of my companion from New York. He was intro- 
duced to the congregation as the eloquent divine from New- 
buryport, Mass., who would deliver the sermon that morn- 
ing. A better or more eloquent religious discourse I never 
heard. The congregation crowded about him after the ser- 



HOME AGAIN 79 

vice, and implored him to preach in the afternoon. All 
seemed eager to grasp his hand and thank him most kindly 
for his effort. He finally agreed to give them a short dis- 
course in the evening, and we drove back to his uncle's. At 
the evening meal the old uncle asked me to say grace, which 
I declined, looking into the eye of my friend for the first 
time that day. He very adroitly took my place, asked the 
blessing, and relieved me of my embarrassment with a sly 
remark that I was a little bashful yet. His evening sermon 
was a splendid one. A fine collection was taken up for him 
and a vote of thanks given him for presenting his religious 
convictions in such a masterly manner. 

'The next morning we took our departure for Geneva. 
We had not gone far when he turned to me and said, 'Bob, 
I'm awful dry; ain't you? These people gave me enough 
money to keep us in whisky and pay all expenses for a week ; 
and do you know, Bob, you conducted yourself in a manner 
most satisfactory to me, and I thank you for it. But that 
was a terrible look you gave me when the old rooster asked 
you to say grace. Don't you think that my little cousin 
is a daisy ? But, my God ! how dry I am.' And so he rattled 
on until we got to Geneva. 'Bob,' he says, 'I've concluded 
to go as far as Buffalo with vou,' and I could not persuade 
him otherwise. We had an hour or so to wait for the train, 
and before the train came alon^f the reverend was half 
drunk, and before we got to Buffalo was as drunk as a lord. 
I found I could not go on until after midnight, so we went 
to the theater and on our way back he got us in a row, but 
I managed to get him back to the hotel ; but before I could 
get him to his room he was dead drunk. The hotel clerk 
and I left him in bed with his boots on, and that was the 
last I have seen or heard of our reverend friend from Mass- 



8o ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

achusetts." In a few months Bob returned to California 
and I never heard from him again. 

I stayed in New York for a few days and then took the 
train, on the Erie Railroad, for Binghamton and thence to 
Greene, where I found an acquaintance who was a neighbor 
of my father, and he kindly gave me a ride home. 

Home again ! What peace and comfort in those words 
after one has been a wanderer o'er the face of the earth ! 
I knew almost everybody in the neighborhood, for I had 
lived there from the age of ten to fourteen, and everybody 
that I met wanted to hear about California, as but few had 
returned from there at that time. As I had been nearly five 
years there, they thought I must know all about it. I had 
not fully rocovered my health, but I was getting well pretty 
fast, and the rest and recreation with old friends soon re- 
stored me to my normal condition. 

It was now July, 1857, and I had promised myself a rest 
till the next spring. It was indeed a great treat to have the 
privilege of mingling again with the boys and girls after 
being separated from them and their society for nearly five 
years. 

After a brief stay In Smithvllle and surrounding towns I 
went to Tavlor, Cortland County, my residence when I left 
for California, and made my home with an old neighbor 
and his son, Levi Mallory and L. D. Mallory. The son had 
been my schoolmate and chum since I was ten years of age, 
and I had corresponded with him during my stay in Cali- 
fornia. As a returned Californian I was the lion of the 
neighborhood for the time being, and was supposed to have 
plenty of gold, A little bag containing a few ounces of 
real gold I had mined, a few twenty-dollar gold pieces, and 
a heavy gold watch and chain that I wore led the innocent 



HOME AGAIN 8i 

natives to believe that I had unHmited vi^ealth. One old 
acquaintance came to me and asked for a loan of a couple 
of thousand dollars to clear off a mortgage on his farm, 
"for/' said he, "I hear that you came back rich and could 
just as well let me have it as not." Others wanted to borrow 
from one to five hundred dollars or more. Others wanted 
me to enter into various schemes that needed just a little 
more money to insure success. Still, I never enjoyed myself 
more than with my old friends and neighbors at that time. 

After visiting my favorite girl of former years, living a 
few miles away, I spent several weeks with my rela- 
tives in Connecticut, and then returned to Taylor, N. Y., 
to make my home with my old friend Alallory. Con- 
cluding that I had not education enough, I made arrange- 
ments to attend the same school at Truxton, N. Y., that I 
had attended the winter before I went to California. I 
had made up my mind to take a college course, and the 
principal, Mr. Lyman Pierce, told me he could fit me for 
entrance. My intention was to study surgery and engineer- 
ing, and adopt the one I liked best for a profession. 

The school term was three months, commencing Decem- 
ber I, 1857. I was promptly on hand, and found as class- 
mates about forty young women, between the ages of six- 
teen and twenty-two years, and about fifteen or twenty 
young men. It was a sort of training school for teachers. 
The principal was an old teacher and an ex-county superin- 
tendent of schools, a most genial and noble man. I was 
the only one of the students that boarded with him, and 
was counted as one of the family, which consisted of himself 
and wife, two daughters and a son, all grown up except the 
youngest girl, twelve or thirteen years old. Serene Pierce, 
his eldest daughter, was a beautiful girl of eighteen or 



82 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

nineteen years of age, and a model in every way. The son 
and daughters all attended school. 

The sleeping accommodations were somewhat limited, and 
I had to occupy a room with three other students, who, by 
the way, did not trouble me much, as they were very seldom 
in the room except at bedtime. In the room were two beds, 
a stove, a table, and two chairs. Johnny Dodd was my 
sleeping mate, a good sort of boy, about twenty years of 
age, and a fair musician on the violin, but he was deeply 
in love, and spent most of his evenings with his girl. The 
other roommates were farmers' boys, nineteen or twenty 
years old, great big six-footers, and would weigh on an 
average about one hundred and seventy pounds. One of 
them, James Brooks, was very much in love with Mr. 
Pierce's eldest daughter, and spent the most of his evenings 
in her company. The other student, whose name I cannot 
recall, was very pious, and was singing sacred music every 
evening with his two sisters, who occupied a room in the 
same house. Brooks also was a devoted Christian, and spent 
considerable time with them. Consequently I was left alone 
most of the time in my room, pursuing my studies, and 
seldom went to bed before two o'clock in the morning, long 
after the others were sound asleep. 

There were about fifteen of the young ladies rooming in 
and about the building. The schoolroom was built at the 
rear of the principal's residence, and he allowed us to move 
out the chairs and desks for evening dances, but they must 
stop promptly at ten o'clock. Dancing parties were of fre- 
quent occurrence, and they afforded me pleasant exercise 
and recreation. Johnny Dodd furnished the music. After 
the dance was over I repaired to my room and could study 
much better for the exercise. 



HOME AGAIN 83 

One night the two six-foot mates came in and went to bed, 
and in a few moments were snoring loudly and annoyed me 
considerably. This was not the first time that it had hap- 
pened, so I concluded to take some means to stop it or have 
some fun out of it. Johnny Dodd had not returned from 
seeing his girl home, but soon came in, and I asked him to 
be quiet and procure me a cord if he could. Fortunately 
he had one in his valise. Generally these six-footers had 
their toes sticking out at the foot of the bed. Their bed- 
stead was of the old-fashioned kind, with a roller at the foot 
of the bed, and their toes could be seen just above that. 
We carefully got their big toes together, and securely tied 
them to each other and to the bed roller. We then quickly 
undressed, got into bed, and, feigning sleep, awaited results. 
By throwing a slipper against the wall beyond them the 
fellow next the wall was partially awakened, and turned 
over. In doing so he pulled the toe of the other fellow, who 
cried out in pain, and then the row began. Each accused 
the other of tying his toe to the bed roller, but were not yet 
aware that they were tied together. Both became very angry 
and abused each other fiercely. Their loud talking finally 
aroused the whole house. Johnny and I were demanding to 
know what the row was about, and why we were awakened 
in the dead of night by such a performance. So securely had 
we fastened them, and thoughtfully removed their cloth- 
ing, to prevent their getting a knife to cut the cords, that 
they finally begged us to get up and strike a light, so that 
they could get loose. After enjoying the fun for some time, 
Dodd got up and cut the cord and ended the disturbance. 

Balls, parties, suppers, and the many congenial school- 
mates made the winter there the most enjoyable of my life, 
and memories of it still linger with me. 



S4 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

Every two or three weeks I visited my friends, Peter 
Rorapaugh and his noble wife, and spent Sunday. They 
lived only a couple of miles from Truxton, where our school 
was located. Better or more congenial friends and com- 
panions I never knew, and their house was the resort of 
many fun-loving young people. The very atmosphere of 
that home seemed charged with joviality, for P. Rorapaugh 
was the most comical, odd, and mirth-provoking individual 
in the community, if not in the whole region. No wonder 
that all the wits and wags of the best society made it a point 
to meet at Peter's, as he was familiarly called. Some years 
after his wife died and Peter was never himself again. Man 
and wife never lived more happily together than they. I 
met him only a few years ago, but he had none of the old- 
time fire and life, and he seemed sad and sorrowful, still 
mourning the loss of his wife. 

The winter passed too soon. During the winter my step- 
mother's eldest son returned from. Kansas, where he had 
been for a year or more, and was very enthusiastic over the 
probabilities and possibilities of that country. He urged 
me to agree to return with him in the spring, when he would 
help me to mial<:e a start there and v/e could make money 
fast. He said there was plenty of land that could be taken 
up in the best part of the country, and great opportunities 
in other ways awaited young men who would settle there. 

Mr. Pierce said that he could fit me for college by con- 
tinuing with him for another term of three months, and that 
was the course that I had mapped out for myself; but the 
influences seeming to be all the other way, I finally yielded 
and began my preparations to go to Kansas. I had had nine 
months of uninterrupted enjoyment and pleasure, and so 
decided to go back to business again in a new field, v/hich 



HOME AGAIN 85 

I now believe to be one of the greatest mistakes of my life. 
After the school term closed I made a trip to see my best 
girl and bid her good-bye, which was one of the hardest 
things to do of all. We were not engaged to be married, 
but it was a foregone conclusion with both of us that we 
would be. It was the saddest parting that I had ever experi- 
enced, and I never saw her again. I should have married 
her, but I thought I did not have money enough to take care 
of a wife, and until then I told her that I could not think of 
marrying. To part thus was a sad ending to our long years 
of devotion. Hope for the future was all that was left me. 

After a visit and farewell to my friends, A. B. Smith and 
myself started for Kansas on the morning of April 2, 1858, 
via Buffalo, Cleveland and St. Louis. I had never been in 
the Western States, and it v/as a very interesting trip to 
me, especially across the State of Ohio and the broad prairies 
of Indiana and Illinois. 

We arrived at St. Louis on April i6th, and attended the 
funeral of Thomas H, Benton and saw John C. Fremont and 
his wife at the funeral. We engaged passage on the steamer 
Sovereign for Kansas City, to sail the next day. I had 
brought about two hundred and fifty pounds of maple sugar 
with me, and sold it readily in St. Louis for twenty cents a 
pound. We left St. Louis on the i6th of April and were 
four days going up the Missouri to Kansas City. At that 
time the place v;as very small, and no business there except 
along the bank of the river. One hotel, one liquor store, a 
theatre and a few small shops of tinners, stove-makers and 
blacksmiths comprised all there was on the hill above the 
bank of the river, though a brick building or two had been 
put up about halfway to Westport. The nearest railroads 
were Jefferson City and St. Joseph, Mo, Wyandotte, Kan., 



B6 ONE OF THE PEOPLE | 

just above the mouth of the Kansas River, was seemingly 
the largset place of the two. 

The next day after our arrival we took passage on the 
stage for Ossawatomie, about fifty miles south, in Linn 
County, Kansas, where old John Brown had his headquar- 
ters. The first town we came to was Paola, county seat of 
Lykins County, Kansas. Our route had been over a rolling 
prairie, with scarcely any timber, and very few inhabi- 
tants, which did not indicate a very cheerful outlook. All 
the little streams were high, and the roads very muddy, and 
no one can realize what that means in Kansas except those 
who have been there at such a time. Soon after leaving 
Paola we came to Bull Creek, and in fording it came near 
tipping over, and only saved ourselves by the greatest exer- 
tions. Our route was now through timber, mostly in the 
bottoms of the Marie des Cygnes River, which we reached 
just before night, but could not cross, as the boats had been 
carried away by the flood and not yet replaced. 

Ossawatomie was but a short distance from us, but we 
had to lie on wet ground, with only small horse-blankets to 
keep us warm. The stage was of no use for a resting-place, 
as it was only a small, two-seated, open wagon. To make 
a bad matter worse, a fine, drizzling rain set in at dark, 
which served to make us more miserable. We both caught 
cold that night. The next morning we were carried across 
the river, and walked to town the rest of the way. We got 
a fair breakfast, and left town for the ferry on the Potta- 
wotomie, and wended our way on foot to Twin Springs, ten 
miles away, southeast over a rolling prairie of good land. 
We stopped at the house of one Tom Arnold, but the accom- 
modations were worse than any miners' camp I ever saw; 
but I was used to roughing it in former days, and I didn't 



HOME AGAIN 87 

mind It much. The day after our arrival there I was taken 
with the mumps, and was in a bad condition in a short time. 
I was very sick, but I began to improve after a few days 
of terrible'suffering, and slowly recovered, but it was a long 
while before I was well again. As soon as I was able we 
changed our abode and went to live with a family by the 
name of Grubb, where we had better accommodations. Then 
we commenced a building for a store, with the intention of 
opening business as soon as possible. In the neighborhood 
of Twin Springs about every other quarter section of land 
was occupied, and for some miles around us the land was 
pretty well settled, and the prospect for an opening of this 
kind was very flattering. 

About this time the jayhawkers were making raids into 
Missouri and running off their niggers, under the leadership 
of Montgomery, John Brown, Dr. Dennison and others. 
Montgomery lived twenty or thirty miles southwest of us, 
and the IMissourians in retaliating sometimes struck our 
neighborhood, and our people were very much frightened. 
Many people wished to get away and were anxious to sell 
out. A man bv the name of Preston, who had a claim of 
one hundred and sixty acres, forty acres fenced and the 
corn on it knee high, a fair house for that country, a pig, 
about two hundred bushels of corn in crib, a stove, etc., be- 
came so frightened that he decided to leave. One night he 
loaded up the most of his traps and was off at daylight the 
next morning. Thinking I might be able to purchase the 
whole outfit, I followed him, and, after a good deal of bicker- 
ino- bought the place for one hundred and sixty dollars, got 
alfthe papers signed and delivered before two o'clock p.m., 
and got back at night and took possession. This gave us a 
home and a place to start business, SO we turned over the 



88 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

frame of the building we had put up to the town for a 
schoolhouse. We soon had the new place fitted up for a 
store. The postmaster resigned, and recommended me for 
the position, and in a few months I received the appointment 
and moved the post-office to our store. The mail route from 
Ossawatomie to Fort vScott was about six miles west of us, 
and a boy brought our mail to us once a week. After some 
considerable trouble I got the route changed via Twin 
Springs, and we had a mail once a day to Fort Scott. We 
got in a stock of goods and commenced to do business. My 
health was not good, but I managed to keep about and at- 
tend to business, while Smith, my partner, vv^as working out- 
side putting in and attending to about two hundred acres 
of corn on shares. 

In the meantime the trouble between the jayhawkers and 
Missourians continued unabated, and for our own protec- 
tion we organized a company of home guards, who mus- 
tered and drilled at our place every Saturday afternoon. 
This Kansas border trouble was really the beginning of the 
Civil War. About once in every two months we were called 
upon to vote on the adoption of a constitution, formed by 
different conventions under the following names : The Law- 
rence Constitution, the Wyandotte Constitution, the Leaven- 
w^orth Constitution, the Atchison Constitution, the Lecomp- 
ton Constitution, and the Topeka Constitution. 

During that summer I took up one hundred and sixty 
acres of land, and had bought from the government eighty 
acres more, all in the vicinity of Twin Springs. In a few 
months a good claim near there became vacant, and I aban- 
doned the first one hundred and sixty acres and took up the 
Mound claim, as it was called, of which I will speak later. 
In August of 1858, fever and ague, aa well as malarial 



HOME AGAIN 89 

fevers, began to be very prevalent, and from that time till 
October or November there were hardly enough well people 
to take care of the sick. I did not escape, and was down 
for some time after the disease attacked me. I slowly re- 
cuperated, but the chills and fever stuck to me all the next 
winter; in fact, I never was free of them until I left the 
country. 

As soon as I was able to travel I went to Kansas City to 
buy goods, and kept the business going. We did a good 
business with the Indians after they had received their pay 
from the government. Our crops were good, and we had 
done fairly well, but the outlook was gloomy, and I v/as get- 
ting heartily sick of frontier life. We lay on our arms 
every night, not knowing when we would be called out to 
defend ourselves against the Missourians or jayhawkers, as 
we were in neutral territory and both sides looked upon us 
with suspicion. Early in the fall I was waited upon by a 
committee and tendered the nomiination for member of the 
Legislature. A nomination was equivalent to an election, as 
it was all one way in our district ; but I was in poor health, 
and so sick of the countrv that I declined the honor. 

In the following spring Pike's Peak gold diggings were 
all the rage, and everybody that could leave started out for 
that place. I had had enough of gold diggings in California 
and was immune from that kind of fever; but my partner 
caught the craze, so we sold our store and claim to a man 
from Arkansas for six hundred dollars cash and divided 
up. Smith started for Pike's Peak with a company of five 
or six men from our neighborhood, and I took up my abode 
with a man and his family by the name of Elliott, whose land 
adjoined the Mound claim I had previously taken up. 

My health was so poor that I w^s not able to do much of 



90 ONE OF THE PEOPLE ^ 

anything, and I concluded to take a trip to Illinois and visit 
my aunt Harriet, who married a man by the name of Elisha 
B. Howe. They lived near Marengo, McHenry County, 
111. Mr. Howe was a widower who had three or four 
grown-up boys and one girl when they were married. My 
aunt had one son, who was fourteen or fifteen years of age 
at that time. Two of the boys and the girl (Jennie by 
name) were at home at this time. All gave me a warm wel- 
come, and under my aunt's care my health improved, and I 
was able to do some work on the farm with the other boys. 
Jennie was a charming companion, and always ready for 
a ride or a dance, and the summer passed very pleasantly. 

I now thought I could stand Kansas again, and, as my 
business interests there needed attention, I returned to that 
State the last of September, 1859, and found conditions 
worse than ever. It had been a dry season, and but little 
immigration, and, to make matters worse, chills and fever 
soon took hold of me again. My claim had been jumped by 
three Irishmen, who were determined to hold it, and we had 
to go before the registrar and receiver at the land office at 
Topeka with witnesses, seventy miles away. I was obliged 
to pay the expenses of my witnesses there and back, but the 
matter could not be settled for months, as the case had to 
go to Washington after the officers at Topeka had rendered 
their decision. 

Disgusted with Kansas, and health still poor, I concluded 
to go back to New York State. I placed all my business in 
the hands of a bright young friend of mine, Nicolas Beuter, 
to whom I gave power of attorney. He was permanently 
located there, and in 1861 raised a regiment of Unionists 
and went out as its colonel, but was killed in the first en- 
gagement with the rebels. He was a noble fellow, honest 



HOME AGAIN 91 

and brave, a perfect type of true American manhood. Had 
he lived he would no doubt have made a name and fame in 
the war. ' 

After making my arrangements with Beuter, and bidding 
my friends farewell, I took the stage for Kansas City, and 
stopped for a day or two to see my German friend whom 
I formerly knew in Yreka, Cal. While at the hotel I be- 
came acquainted with a washing-machine man, who was 
selling county rights, and he urged me to try the business. 
I finally made a contract with him to go to Wyandotte and 
Leavenworth and work for ten days, and if I was satisfied 
with the results I was to buy several county rights, but if 
not I would divide the profits, if any. He gave me a sample 
machine and a lot of printed matter and told me to go 
ahead. It chanced to be Monday morning when, with my 
apparatus, I made my first appearance in Wyandotte. A 
widow woman kept the hotel where I stopped, and I started 
in at once to show her how to work the machine and what a 
labor-saver it was. Whether she gave me an order to get 
rid of me or not I don't know, but I got one. I then can- 
vassed the town and sold two more. The price, if I remem- 
ber rightly, was five dollars. I sent the orders over to my 
employer in Kansas City, and took the stage for Leaven- 
worth. 

The next morning after my arrival I started an experi- 
mental laundry on the porch of the hotel by washing out a 
lot of dirty handkerchiefs, shirts, socks, etc., that were of- 
fered for the demonstration, in the meantime talking myself 
hoarse showing up its merits, but made no sales. I can- 
vassed the town, but failed to make sales. I finally got the 
proprietor to take one in settlement of my bill, took the stage 
for Kansas City, and gave up the job. I had made two dol- 



92 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

lars in the enterprise. Thus ended my experience in the 
washing-machine business. I took the first boat to St. Joseph 
that came along, and concluded I would start in no new 
schemes until I got back to York State and regained my 
health. 

At that time the farthest west that any railroad had pene- 
trated was St. Joseph, Mo., called the St. Jo and Hannibal 
Railroad. As soon as I landed I bought a ticket for Chicago, 
which included a ride from Hannibal to Quincy, 111., on the 
Mississippi River. I saw by a poster that the express train 
did not leave for an hour and a half, so I took a walk about 
town to look at the city, getting back in time for the train. 
I took a seat with a young man who said he was going to 
Chicago, and we were soon engaged in conversation. When 
the conductor came along and looked at my ticket he in- 
formed me that I was on the wrong train, as it was a second- 
class ticket good on the train that left an hour and a half 
before. I remarked that it was my first experience with 
railroads in the State of Missouri and supposed I was all 
right. He smiled faintly at my greenness, punched my 
ticket and passed on. My companion paid three or four 
dollars more than I had for a ticket, but we rode together 
all the way, just the same. 

We arrived at Quincy, 111., at noon the next day, and had 
to wait five hours there before we could go on. Soon after 
leaving there, in rounding a curve the whistle blew the 
dan<?fer signal, and on lookinor out I saw a cow in the air, 
as high as the smokestack of the locomotive. We soon came 
to a standstill, but started oflf again in about thirty minutes. 
It was a pretty close call from a serious accident, but we 
reached Chicapro all right. Nothing of moment occurred 
on the eastward tr-ip, and I arrived at my old home in Cort- 



HOME AGAIN 93 

land County on the i8th of October, 1859. I was glad to get 
back to the old town of Taylor once more, having been gone 
over a year and a half, and during that time had seen some- 
thing of the wild and woolly West. In those days the West 
was very wild compared to what it is at the present time. 
Hundreds of thousands of people now occupy land that was 
formerly a barren waste, and large cities now stand where 
fifty years ago there was not a house. 

My trip to Kansas was a failure financially, as well as dis- 
astrous to my health. I still had eighty acres of land there, 
besides the one hundred and sixty acres pending decision in 
the Land Office. There was also three hundred dollars 
owing me, but the prospect for collecting it was very slim. 
It was very unfortunate that I did not follow my own in- 
clinations and go through college. In a few months my land 
suit was decided against me. I had some money left, and 
thought of going back to California, but concluded to visit 
my relatives in the State of Connecticut and see if my aunt 
Bradley would help me either to go to college or to take up 
phonography and study for a shorthand reporter. I had 
been practicing and studying shorthand since I first began 
it at the mines in California. My aunt Bradley was well off, 
and I told her all about my intentions and what I wished to 
do, but had not money enough to carry me through. She 
gave me two hundred dollars, which was the only financial 
assistance I ever received. I decided to go to Cincinnati and 
study reporting with Elias Longley, at that time the best 
reporter in the United States. 



CHAPTER VI. 

ENLISTMENT FOR THE WAR. 

I BEGAN a correspondence with Longley at once, and ar- 
ranged for instruction, which was to begin after the ad- 
journment of the Ohio Legislature, whose proceedings he 
was reporting. After visiting my relatives I went back to 
Taylor, N. Y., and from there to Cincinnati, where I ar- 
rived on the 6th of February, i860. I studied with Mr. 
Longley for a month, and was able to write one hundred 
words a minute, and a speed of one hundred and twenty 
words a minute would qualify me for reporting. 

While studying with Longley I got acquainted with a Mr. 
Hopkins, a sign painter, who had a shop a short distance 
from Longley 's office, and for recreation I used to drop in 
and help him. He told me he would make a sign painter of 
me if I would stay with him, but I had no intention of doing 
anything of the kind. By the advice of Mr. Longley I prac- 
ticed reporting every day in the United States Court, and 
intended to do so until I could begin regular work, when 
there would be all I could do at good wages. I spent my 
time in the courts and at the sign shop, learning to paint 
signs, etc. My roommate, an Englishman, had a grocery 
store on Western Row, and he was anxious to sell out. His 
name was Butterworth. He and his sister came to this 
country with considerable wealth, but it had been so much 

94 



ENLISTMENT FOR THE WAR 95 

reduced that he bought out a small store and went into busi- 
ness, but was not successful. I told him to advertise, but he 
said that if I would sell it for him he would give me a good 
commission. In four days I had sold the property and the 
money was in his pocket. A few days after he was taken 
sick with diphtheria, and I attended him with the assistance 
of his sister. As soon as he got better his sister was taken 
down with the same complaint, and about the time that she 
got better I was taken with the same disease and was very 
sick. As I began to improve I found that one of my ears 
was affected, but gave it little thought at the time. 

After I had recovered sufficiently I went to the courthouse 
to report again. The reporters' table was between the wit- 
ness stand and the desks of the lawyers, so that we were in 
a favorable position to hear every word that was uttered 
in the court. I found that while I could hear on one side 
very distinctly, the affected ear could not catch the words on 
that side. I was so disheartened and disgusted that I hardly 
knew what to do. I broke up my pencils, threw away my 
notes, went to my boarding-house, packed up my clothes, 
and was on the cars with a ticket to New York city before 
noon. 

I did not let the matter worry me long. I could get 
through in time to take the California steamer, if no time 
was lost, but there was a culvert washed out near Wheeling 
and the train was twelve hours late. Just as we crossed 
the ferry from Jersey City the steamer for California went 
sailing out of the harbor. That meant two weeks' waiting 
in New York before another steamer sailed. Up to this 
time the only thing that I had been successful in was escap- 
ing any particular success. The best that I could show in 
the way of resources was a clear conscience, good humor, 



g6 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

and an optimistic temperament. My past troubles were cast 
aside and I took a square look at the future. 

I arrived in New York City April 28, i860. The next 
morning I saw an advertisement in the Sun that a man for 
sign work and house painting was wanted in Harlem. Not 
wishing to be idle, I took the street car for Harlem and got 
the job. The knowledge that I had received in the sign 
shop in Cincinnati came very handy at this time, and the 
next morning I went to work. My work seemed to be satis- 
factory, and I was doing so well that I decided to stop over 
for another steamer before starting for California. About 
a week after I had begun painting, my boss wanted me to 
go with one of his men to finish up the inside of a house. 
A young German by the name of Paul Miller, who spoke 
good English, and for whom I had taken a liking, went with 
me. After we had mixed the paints and were on our way 
to the house I said to him : "See here, I am no painter and 
never did such a thing before in my life — in fact, know noth- 
ing about it; but I am willing to learn, and would like to 
have you teach me." He looked at me in astonishment. I 
then told him what experience I had had in the painting line. 
"Well," he said, "I believe I can make a good workman of 
you in a short time." Before night I had learned more than 
I ever knew before about painting, and he gave me much 
encouragement. "You are better now," said he, "than half 
of the painters that are employed here." Miller was one of 
the best and most rapid painters I have ever seen, but he had 
served seven years in Germany learning the trade. I was 
tired that night, but decided to stick to it, and Miller man- 
aged to keep me with him all the while. In the effort to do 
as much as Miller I soon became a fast workman. We be- 
came good friends, and later went into partnership, and 



ENLISTMENT FOR THE WAR 97 

secured a fine contract that we failed to carry out on account 
of the breaking out of the war. I worked in Harlem for 
several weeks, and gave up going to California for a while. 

I kept watch of the want ads, and one day saw an adver- 
tisement from Ackerman & Miller, sign painters in Nassau 
Street, for a man who knew something about painting. I 
applied for the position and secured the job among seventy 
other applicants. My duties were to open the shop, and pre- 
pare the sign boards for lettering, help put up signs, and to 
work on banners as assistant to the practical sign painter. 
My position was very satisfactory to me and I enjoyed it. 
That I gave satisfaction also was evident. I commenced 
work for this firm on the 17th of May, i860, and remained 
there until the 4th of August. One day Mr. Ackerman came 
into the shop intoxicated and began to find fault with me 
for a trilling matter, and continued his abuse until I pulled 
ofi^ my working clothes and told him I was through and 
would like the money that was due me. He directed the 
bookkeeper to pay me, and I walked out. 

The next day I was engaged by a minstrel troupe as sign 
painter, and went to work on transparencies for a show the 
next Saturday night in Grand Street; but the whole thing 
was a fake and I did not get my pay. 

The year i860 was a very exciting one in New York 
City. It was the year of a Presidential election, with Lincoln 
and Hamlin nominated by the Republicans, and Douglass 
and Johnson by one wing of the Democratic party, Breck- 
enridge and Lane by the other wing, and Bell and Everett 
by the "Know Nothings." The four parties made a very 
lively and bitter campaign. The Wide Awakes, with their 
unique uniforms, made their first appearance that year. The 
Prince of Wales, a boy of twenty, came to New York City 



gS ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

that year on a visit to this country, and it was said at the 
time that New York never saw so great a crowd of people 
before. Broadway for three miles was literally black with 
human beings, from the edge of the sidewalk to the tops of 
the buildings on both sides of the street. I had a good look at 
the Prince while he was reviewing the troops that had 
turned out to welcome him. The next big crowd was to see 
the Japanese delegation who had come to this country for 
the first time after Perry's famous treaty. The crowd to see 
the Japs was not as large as greeted the Prince of Wales. 

The next event of the year was the arrival of the steamer 
Great Eastern, the largest ship ever before built. She was 
in port several weeks, and was visited by hundreds of thou- 
sands of people from all over the western continent. Hence 
New York was a very lively city during the summer of i860. 

After being swindled out of my just dues by the fake min- 
strel troupe, and several dollars borrowed money by the 
alleged proprietor of the same, I cast about for a job, and 
soon after went to work for John McCarthy, house and sign 
painter, corner of Ann and Nassau streets, not a stone's 
throw from Ackerman & Miller's. I first went to drumming 
up work for the shop, and met with fairly good success, and 
continued until near the holidays, when business became very 
dull, from the action of the Southern secessionists and war- 
like preparations in the South. Business became almost 
paralyzed and times were getting dull. Clerks were being 
discharged from many large mercantile houses and idle men 
were getting numerous. No one could predict what a day 
would bring forth. Mr. McCarthy told me he would have 
to lay us off until after the holidays, and he would see what 
he could do for us then. So I went up to New Haven, 
Conn., on a visit to my relatives. 



ENLISTMENT FOR THE WAR ^ 

While the foregoing has been a synopsis of my wage- 
earning affairs, I had many interesting experiences outside 
of my working hours. When I came to New York I knew 
but very httle of city life outside of Cincinnati, San Fran- 
cisco, and other smaller places where I had previously spent 
some time. Therefore there was much that was new to me. 
But there were times when wandering through the streets of 
that great city that I felt more lonely than in the mountains 
of California when prospecting miles from any known habi- 
tation or human being. All faces were strange, and I felt 
lost in a wilderness of people. A large city, if I am without 
companions, is the most desolate place on earth for me. 
After a few weeks this feeling wore off and I wanted to see 
everything possible. I first visited all the theatres, minstrels, 
concert halls, beer gardens, and every public place of amuse- 
ment in the city. At that time Bryant's Minstrels, at 444 
Broadwav, was the leading place of amusement in that vicin- 
ity. Then came the Metropolitan Theatre, Wallack's, San 
Francisco Minstrels, on Fourteenth Street ; The Bowery, and 
the Old Bowery. The actors in those days were indeed fine, 
and decidedly superior to those of the present day. Edwin 
Forrest, Edwin Booth, Read, Keene, Laura Keene, Clara 
Morris, the Dennin sisters, Maggie Mitchell, Lottie Crab- 
tree were some of the shining lights. Among the best come- 
dians were John E. Owens, Clark, and Joe Jefferson. The 
prominent minstrels were Billy Birch, Burbank, Cotton, and 
the Bryants, besides a thousand and one lesser lights whom 
I have forgotten. 

On Sundays I went to hear the eminent divines, more 
especially Henry Ward Beecher, at Plymouth Church ; Tal- 
mage, and others whose names I do not recall. 

Of the candidates and political orators, I remember W. H. 

Lcra 



100 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

Seward, H. V* Johnson, Stephen A. Douglass, Horace 
Greeley, Thurlow Weed, Wilson, Hamlin, Blaine, Conklin, 
Horatio Seymour, Edward Everett, etc. I heard all sides 
of political questions, but my faith in Republican principles 
was not shaken in the least. I was unable to get into the 
Cooper Institute to hear Lincoln in his great speech, but I 
heard him speak from the balcony of the Astor House. 
There doubtless had never been a year previous to the sum- 
mer and fall of i860 so exciting, or in which there were so 
many varied scenes of interest as in that year. Heenan re- 
turned that summer after his victory over Tom Sayers of 
England. The trotting record of the world was lowered on 
the Brooklyn track, and also at the Fleetwood track in New 
York. 

A friend and roommate by the name of Wilcox, from 
Cortland County, was a clerk and student at law in the 
office of a well-known Tombs lawyer. Charles Spencer and 
I used to visit him frequently at the office, and became ac- 
quainted with many of the detectives and others who were 
found there. One evening I called on Wilcox at the office 
and met a detective there with whom I had Ijecome well ac- 
quainted, and who was that night going to make an "under- 
ground" tour between Church Street and Broadway in 
search of a man wanted for some crime, and who was sup- 
posed to be hiding in that locality. I remarked that I would 
like to go along, and he said to me, "You can go if you wish, 
but it will not be a very pleasant trip." "But Fd like to go, 
if I will be no hindrance to you." "Oh, no, not at all. FlI 
be glad to have your company. Have you a revolver, Wil- 
cox ?" "I think so," said Wilcox, taking one from a drawer 
and handing it to me. "Now, my boy," said the detective, 
"in case of emergency do just as I tell you, but I think we 



ENLISTMENT FOR THE WAR loi 

shall have no trouble." We stayed in the office till ten 
o'clock, then started out. 

We went down Church Street a few blocks and stopped 
for a moment in front of an entrance to a basement. My 
conductor looked up and down the street, then motioned 
me to follow him, and fairly darted down the steps, opened 
the door, and we went in. The room was about thirty feet 
wide, but how long I could not see, as it was dimly lighted 
with a single lamp, turned down low. W^e passed tlirough 
this room and at one side went into a dark hallway. My 
friend pulled from his pocket a small bull's-eye lantern, and 
we followed this passage for some distance until we came 
to a hall running in the opposite direction. We heard voices 
a few steps farther on, and my conductor knocked at a door. 
A little hole was opened in the door, and my friend held a 
consultation with some one on the inside for a moment or 
two ; then the door was opened and we walked into a room 
dimly lighted, with a bench running all around the room, 
except at the doorways. A number of men and women were 
sitting there, apparently waiting for something, and a hard- 
looking lot they were. My friend looked them over, and 
one or two gave him a nod of recognition. He then gave 
three raps on a door, and after a moment gave another one, 
and very soon the door swung noiselessly open, and going 
through a short hall we stepped into a barroom, where there 
were a half-dozen hard-looking customers. The barkeeper 
seemed to know my friend, and they held a whispered con- 
versation over the counter, and then the barkeeper handed 
a small key to my friend and, after carelessly looking over 
the parties about the room, made a motion for me to follow 
him. We passed out the same way that we went in, and 
after going some distance in the hall we stopped, and my 



102 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

friend unlocked an almost invisible door. We passed in, 
stopped and fastened the door, and moved a few steps ahead 
and came to a flight of stairs that led down one story more. 
A sickening stench arose that almost choked us, but we 
passed down the steps and turned into a dark passage, 
and soon came into a well-lighted room, where we 
could hear the clinking of glasses and a buzz of conver- 
sation, with now and then a drunken yell from some 
of the inmates. Some were well-dressed, others ragged and 
dirty, and a few almost naked. One blear-eyed old hag, 
apparently very drunk, with a ragged petticoat thrown over 
her arm, with a short underskirt on that reached just below 
her hips, was prancing up and down the room, begging for 
a penny to get a poor, sick friend (who lay in a corner on 
a bundle of rags) a little medicine or a little whisky to warm 
her up. Most of the inmates were curled up on the floor, or 
on wide benches that served as bunks, and appeared to be 
either asleep or drunk. We soon left this room and followed 
a long, damp and foul-smelling passage, when we came to 
a barred gate, fastened with a huge lock. My friend had 
a key to open it, and we passed on. He told me to look out 
now, as we should soon come to a different class of people. 
In a short time we came to a room with a guard at the dcor, 
who evidently knew my friend and let us in very readily. 
Here was a regular gambling den, and faro as well as rou- 
lette and monte were being played. Four seedy-looking indi- 
viduals were playing poker, but stopped on our arrival ; but 
one of them seemed to know our guide, and the game went 
on. A more choice set of blacklegs I never saw together 
before. There were probably thirty in this room, and my 
guide told me that more than half were skulking from jus- 
tice and had served time in State's prison. They all seemed 



ENLISTMENT I'OR THE WAR 103 

to look upon nze with a good deal of suspicion, but most of 
them apparently knew my guide, and many were friendly 
with him, and some greeted him warmly. We stopped in 
this room for some time, but finally left and climbed up a 
rickety stairway to the floor above, and passed through a set 
of sleeping-rooms or rows of berths, as on a ship, with 
notices that berths were five and ten cents. To all appear- 
ances the occupants were of the lowest class, both men and 
women. After considerable parley with the proprietor of 
this den, and the rousing up of two or three sleepers, we 
returned to the street by a dark passageway. It was two 
A.M. when we reached the street. We did not find the man 
that the detective was looking for. It seemed good to get 
into the fresh air again; but I enjoyed the trip, though I 
never believed before that such conditions could exist in the 
heart of the city. 

A trip through the slums and tenement-houses on the East 
Side, through Cherry and other streets, beggars description. 
I saw misery, vice, drunkenness and degradation enough to 
last me a lifetime, and after that the scenes in Oliver Twist 
were very tame by the side of the reality, such as I saw in 
New York. 

One of the greatest sights of that summer, to me, was the 
Great Eastern. She lay in the Hudson River, extending 
three blocks on West Street from bow to stern. She lay 
almost exactly where the first steamboat did thirty-three 
years before, when Robert Fulton revolutionized travel and 
transportation by water. Although wonderful improvements 
were made the next thirty-three years, yet I hardly think 
they were as rapid as the first thirty-three. Fulton's little 
steamer could have easily been thrown down one of the 
smokestacks of this immense vessel. One day as I sat on 



I04 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

the end of the wharf gazing at this ship, and looking back 
to the time of the first steamer, which made its trial trip only 
five years before I was born, I wondered what the next thirty 
years would bring forth. I have lived forty years since 
then, and it is amazing that so much could be accomplished 
during the period of a man's short life. 

While in Connecticut I visited an uncle of mine in Hamden, 
and one of his sons, living only a stone's throw away, a good 
farmer, and something of a politician, by some means got 
elected to the State Legislature. His organ of self-esteem 
was immense, and his eccentric habit of using large words, 
very often misplaced and many times most ridiculous, alto- 
gether miade him a most amusing companion. With a great 
'T am" sort of an air he cordially greeted me, and in a short 
time had told me all about his wife and baby, his election 
to the State Legislature, the great speeches he had made, 
the great laws he had passed, and how, by the most 
superhuman efforts, he had saved the State many thousands 
of dollars, and how much he congratulated himself upon his 
wise and patriotic course, how much the people of the State 
ought to thank him, and how ready they ought to be to send 
him back to the Legislature for another term to carry out 
some great projects that he had in view. He said that if he 
got them through all right it would be the stepping-stone to 
making him Governor of the State. He had not the least 
doubt of reaching that position, if the people would only 
listen to him. 

This illustrious cousin of mine, whose exalted opinion of 
himself was much greater than his opinion of any other per- 
son, or of their opinions of him, wished me to attend a meet- 
ing of a debating club with him, of which he had been 
chosen president at the last meeting. I assented, and when 



ENLISTMENT FOR THE WAR 105 

the time came rode down with him to the district school- 
house, where the debate was to be held. We found on our 
arrival about twenty-five to thirty persons already there, and 
I was introduced to a justice of the peace, two or three dea- 
cons, and, in fact, as my cousin remarked, "the cream of our 
suburban population." In due time the president took the 
chair and, with a grand flourish of his arm and a toss of the 
head, called the meeting to order. Quite a number of ladies 
were in attendance, mostly of middle age and not of very 
prepossessing appearance. 

**The question, ladies and gentlemen, for this evening, as 
you are aware, is this : *Which Is of the Greatest Benefit — 
the Press or the Pulpit?' Now, ladies and gentlemen, you 
will array and arrange yourselves to meet the coming con- 
test according to the usual method, with the affirmative on 
the right and the negative on the left. So mote it be. The 
meeting stands adjourned for ten minutes for arrangement." 
When the meeting was called to order, all the deacons and 
one old maid were on the side of the pulpit, and the younger 
portion of the debaters were on the side of the press. A 
young man of about twenty-five years of age opened the 
debate on the side of the press. His argument was not very 
convincing to me, and his delivery was not good, with much 
repetition of gestures, very awkward, and the sing-song tone 
of his voice soon became very monotonous. For an opening 
it was decidedly a failure, and every one seemed to be re- 
lieved when he sat down. One of the deacons, a man of 
about forty-five or fifty years of age, opened on the side of 
the pulpit. He, with a loud voice, thanked God that he was 
on the side of Christ, as he always had been and always 
meant to be. "Amen !" shouted the deacon next to him. 
"Order, order!" shouted the chairman. "This is not a 



io6 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

prayer-meeting," and the speaker went on : "How can the 
press compare with the pulpit ? Christ did not use the press, 
did he? Look at our county paper, or any of our New 
Haven papers, and what will you find in them but love 
stories and lies, and the truth ain't in them. See the lies 
that our county paper put in about my brother's wife's niece, 
as nice a young girl as walks on two legs; and then only 
last week there was a long piece about Aunt Jenny Brown 
having hysterics, and rubbing her best dress all over with 
butter to spite it, so she wouldn't have to go to meeting. 
Was that a benefit to the public — eh?" "How about the 
preacher that left his pulpit and ran away with Sam Jones ?" 
said a squeaky voice from a corner of the room, followed 
by a hearty laugh from the audience, which seemed to dis- 
concert the deacon, and he sat down. 

The next speaker on the side of the press was a young 
lady of about twenty years of age, who spoke very low and 
very fast, and I was not able to catch the drift of her argu- 
ment. However, there was one good feature about it — it 
was very short. Next came deacon No. 2, whose photo- 
graph would have made a good picture for a comic almanac. 
Rising slowly, and pulling a large bandanna handkerchief 
from his pocket, he blew his nose, and said that the argu- 
ment was already won for the pulpit. To compare the press 
with the pulpit was praising Satan in the face of God, and 
the press had no influence with him or his family. After a 
few commonplace remarks he sat down, followed by an old 
maid on the side of the press, whose tongue seemed hung on 
a swivel and played at both ends. With a nasal twang she 
rattled off a whole lot of language, interspersed with "tews" 
and "du's" that none could understand or keep track of. It 
seemed as though she never would stop, and when she sat 



ENLISTMENT FOR THE WAR tto; 

down she would not stay down, but kept jumping up to 
make an additional remark she had forgotten. The other 
debaters were like children, who seemed to have committed 
their parts to memory. Just as the debate was about to 
close, a small, middle-aged man asked for the privilege of 
making a remark in favor of the press. The privilege was 
granted. He said : *T wish to bring to notice the fact that 
I have heard nothing about the benefits of the cider press 
or the cheese press, as I know of no press more beneficial 
than these.*' He was called to order and the debate closed. 

Which side won I never heard, but shades of my ances- 
tors ! such a debate, presided over by a member of the State 
Legislature, in the supposed home of schools, art and litera- 
ture, almost in the shade of the great elms of Yale, in a 
State with two capitals, the birthplace of a Putnam, the 
land of wooden nutmegs, that raised a Henry Ward 
Beecher ! Could it be possible ? The wild and woolly West, 
clear to the Pacific Ocean, could not produce such a bur- 
lesque as I witnessed there in the wilds of New England. 
The debate, the place, the president, in fact, the whole thing, 
was so unique and interesting to me that I have told it many 
times as one of my best stories. 

At that time, in every neighborhood could be found 
old people above the age of seventy years who had never 
been outside their own town limits since they were born. 
After a short visit to my relatives I went up to Springfield, 
]\Iass., where my uncle Ezra Kimberly lived. He lived near 
the Springfield armory, where all of Uncle Sam's small arms 
were manufactured at that time. I went through the shops, 
which were very interesting at that time, but little did I 
dream, when looking through the buildings where thou- 
sands upon thousands of muskets were stored, that within 



io8 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

a short year every one of them would be in use to defend the 
Union, with many more needed to supply the demand. 

When I returned to New York I found everything in the 
way of business at a standstill. During my absence the 
State of South Carolina had seceded from the Union. This 
occurred on the 20th of December, i860. Mississippi next 
passed the ordinance of secession, January 9, 1861 ; Florida 
on January loth, Alabama on January nth, Georgia on 
January 19th, Louisiana on January 26th, and Texas on 
February ist, making seven States that claimed to be out 
of the Union, with the border States threatening to follow 
them. This had a very depressing effect on all kinds of 
business. 

I went back to Mr. McCarthy to see if he had anything 
for me to do. After a day or two he concluded to set me 
at work at reduced wages, which I accepted, and remained 
in his employ until Fort Sumter was fired upon, on the 12th 
of April, t86i. 

The bottom then seemed to fall out of everything. Idle 
men were everywhere. After my return from Connecticut, 
Paul Miller and myself arranged a partnership to go into 
the house painting business. Miller being acquainted with 
the contractor who had a contract to build a whole block be- 
tween Fourth and Madison avenues. We secured the con- 
tract to paint the whole block inside and out. By close cal- 
culation of cost of material, labor, and so forth, we could 
make several thousand dollars on the job by the first of 
November. The Fort Sumter affair put an end to all new 
enterprises, and nothing was thought of but war. 

Disheartened and gloomy with forebodings, I bid Miller 
good-bye and started for Cortland County to await events. 
I arrived at Taylor the loth of April. My stepmother and 



ENLISTMENT FOR THE WAR 109 

stepbrother were living on the old farm there, and I took 
up my residence with them, part of the time making my 
home with Levi Mallory and his son L. Mallory. The three 
daughters were all at home, and the time passed pleasantly. 
For the next few months I was employed in painting a few 
houses, working on the old farm, and debating whether I 
should join the army or go to California. Through the New 
York Daily Herald I kept well posted as to war matters — 
Bull Run, McClellan's campaign in West Virginia, his call 
to take command of the Army of the Potomac, etc. In Sep- 
tember I concluded to go to California, as I thought the war 
would not last long and more men would not be needed. 

The latter part of September I went to Truxton to see my 
old friend and schoolmate, John G. Pierce, and found him 
with the war fever and recruiting a company for cavalry 
service. Most of my schoolmates and young friends were 
enlisting in the infantry, mostly in the Seventy-sixth New 
York Volunteers. Pierce urged me very hard to join his com- 
pany. I told him that I had made arrangements to go back 
to California, but I would think the matter over and let him 
know in the next two weeks. We had always been the best 
of friends — chums, in fact — and I doubt if any one else 
could have induced me to change my plans. After thinking 
the matter over for some time, I finally decided to go with 
him. 

I enlisted on the 12th of October, and at once took charge 
of several enrolled men and went to Cortland with them, 
holding them as a nucleus for a full company of one hundred 
men. The headquarters of the Seventy-sixth New York 
Volunteer Infantry were on the Fair Grounds at Cortland, 
and they got most of the volunteers, but now and then one 
would be found for the cavalry. A. D. Waters had just 



no ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

returned from the Twenty-third Regiment of New York 
Infantry, and, being a friend of Pierce, concluded to join 
us, and went to work to fill up the company, and to add 
other cavalry companies that were being raised in different 
parts of the State. One company at Syracuse, in which 
were many boys from Cortland County, was nearly full. 
This company (A) was sent to Elmira and placed in bar- 
racks, to form the nucleus of a regiment to be called the 
'Torter Guards." Soon after other companies arrived, in- 
cluding ours, which left Cortland on the 25th of October. 
We still lacked a considerable number of men to fill the com- 
pany. A. D. Waters and J. G. Pierce were selected as our 
officers, and if we could raise a full company I was to be 
second lieutenant. An old chap by the name of Delos Car- 
penter brought about half a company from Bath, N. Y., and 
it was proposed that our company be consolidated with 
Carpenter's; but Carpenter claimed the captaincy, with 
Waters and Pierce as lieutenants. Then Carpenter claimed 
the appointment of the next officer, orderly sergeant, the re- 
maining non-commissioned positions to be equally divided 
between the two wings. By this arrangement I was to have 
the quartermaster-sergeant's place. This programme was 
carried out, and, having a full company, our soldier life 
commenced. With the Porter Guards there were now eight 
organized companies of cavalry at the rendezvous, and by 
order of the Adjutant-General of the State we were con- 
solidated into a regiment and designated as the Tenth New 
York Volunteer Cavalry. Many would-be officers were 
thrown out including myself by the consolidation, and 
had to go in the ranks or refuse to be mustered in. After 
much wrangling about places and officers, the regiment was 
finally mustered into the United States service, with John 



ENLISTMENT FOR THE WAR ni 

C. Lemon, of Buffalo, as colonel ; William Irvine, of Elmira, 
as lieutenant-colonel, and M. H. Avery, of Syracuse, as first 
major, and John H. Kemper as second major, one to each 
battalion. 



CHAPTER VII. 

IN THE ARMY. 

We left Elmira on the 24th day of December, 1861, for 
the then almost unheard-of town of Gettysburg, Pa. We 
were twenty-four hours on the trip, but most of the men 
enjoyed themselves playing all sorts of pranks upon one 
another, and sleep during the night was impossible. When 
we reached Gettysburg we must have presented a very poor 
appearance to the people of that town, but we were received 
with open arms, and open doors as well. The people could 
not do enough for us, and every member of the regiment 
was invited to partake of their hospitality. Each company 
was housed either in public or private buildings in different 
parts of the town. The citizens were composed mostly of 
what was then called Pennsylvania Dutch. A few months 
before they had been badly frightened by some of the rebel 
cavalry that made a raid into the country north of the Poto- 
mac, and were said to have threatened the town of Gettys- 
burg; hence their application to have a regiment stationed 
there. They were happy to have our protectiorbat that time, 
so that self-interest had something to do with our warm 
reception. Company G occupied the bowling alley in the 
south part of the town. The town was full of pretty girls, 
and not a few of them found a sweetheart in the ranks of 
the regiment. Our officers held a loose rein over the men, 

112 



IN THE ARMY 113 

consequently discipline was not rigidly enforced. Balls, par- 
ties, rides and all sorts of amusements were rife, and the old 
town had never been so lively as during the two months of 
our stay there in the winter of 1861-62. A number of mar- 
riages occurred during and after the war as a result of our 
sojourn there. 

Notwithstanding some unpleasant episodes, the "Porter 
Guards," for the most part, were ever held in high regard 
and esteem by the best citizens of the town. 

Sergeant McKivett and myself were somewhat attentive 
to a couple of girls while we were there. I speak of this 
from the fact that my girl was Jennie Wade, who was killed 
by a rebel bullet during the battle of Gettysburg, the story 
of whom is so familiar. Her name will live in song and 
story as one of the bravest victims of that memorable battle. 
An account of this event is given on pages 143-144. 

About six weeks after our arrival at Gettysburg barracks 
were built for the men, and the town was relieved from its 
burden of soldiers. Guard duty and drilling was the order 
of the day, and some rumors that we were to be sent to the 
front were joyfully received. The citizens visited us in 
large numbers each day at dress parade to enjoy the music 
of the band, which w^as one of the best in the service. 

On the 6th of March an order was received to be in readi- 
ness to move the next. day. At noon on the 7th the whole 
regiment was aboard two trains of cars, and, amid tears and 
cheers and fond adieus, we departed from the ever to be 
remembered village of Gettysburg. The Sentinel of the next 
day had the following to say about our departure : "The 
large number of our citizens who assembled to see them off 
must have shown to the Tenth Regiment that their presence 
among us had not been an unpleasant one, and we think we 



114 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

utter an almost universal sentiment that their departure was 
regretted. Speaking for ourselves, our intercourse v^rith 
those of the officers and men with whom we were placed in 
familiar and almost daily contact has been of the most so- 
ciable, agreeable and pleasant character." 

This is what the Star had to say : "This much we can say 
for the "'Porter Guards" : that we have not seen anywhere 
a finer-looking regiment, a regiment generally composed of 
men most gentlemanly in their deportment, most intelligent 
and well-behaved, and we profess to have seen a great num- 
ber since the beginning of the rebellion." 

Soon after reaching the Central Railroad we found sol- 
diers guarding the track all the way to Baltimore. We 
arrived at the Monumental City just at dusk, and after much 
delay were marched to the President Street Depot of the 
P., W. & B. R. R., where we were jolted about on the cars 
all night, and then started for Perryville with orders to go 
into camp there. We arrived there about ten a.m., and were 
unloaded into the mud, ankle deep, amid the cheers of hun- 
dreds of mules and the yells of hundreds of darkies, who 
were brealiing them in. The teamsters wanted to know if 
we had come to relieve them. As we had no arms, it looked 
a little that way. After a kind of go-as-you-please march 
for nearly a mile, we got to the barracks and were assigned 
quarters. A rumor soon came that we were to be put into 
the infantry, and there was a row at once. Every one was 
dissatisfied, and the trouble begun among the officers in 
Gettysburg now spread to the rank and file, and it looked for 
a time as though we might be disbanded. 

After a short stay at Perryville, the regiment was sent 
to relieve the Scott Life Guards at Havre de Grace, and 
the first battlion, under Major Avery, was assigned to duty 



IN THE ARMY 115 

guarding the railroad bridges between Baltimore and Havre 
de Grace — Company A at Back River, Company G at Gun- 
powder River, Company C at Bush River, and Company F 
at Perrymans. Our company (G) was housed in a barn 
at Harewood, at the south end of the Gunpowder River 
bridge. In the meantime the whole regiment was clamoring 
to be sent to the field or disbanded. There was a good deal 
of talk about our being put into the infantry, which caused 
a dissatisfied feeling among the men, but not so much in our 
company as in most of the other companies. The question 
in our company was how to get rid of the old captain, Car- 
penter. The fight was so bitter that we took but little inter- 
est in regimental affairs, and the fact that we were separated 
from the other companies caused us to concentrate all of our 
interest upon our own. In June, the regiment, with the ex- 
ception of Companies A, C. G, were removed to Baltimore, 
with headquarters at Patterson Park. 

Aside from our troubles with the old captain, our stay 
at Harewood was much enjoyed. The fishing was good, 
and we had the use of a large boat for excursions on the 
river. Five or six miles below us was General Cadwalader's 
country residence, with spacious grounds, which were free 
to our soldiers to visit whenever we wished. As we were 
not required to drill much, it was a sort of continuous picnic 
for us. Those who had a taste for the ardent found plenty 
of it a few miles away, and indulged sometimes too freely, 
which would often end in a fight and the guardhouse. 

One night, while the old captain was away, and Lieutenant 
Waters was in command, we had quite a scare. A report 
came into camp that the rebels were going to attack us that 
night. At about ten p.m. the whole company was drawn 
up in line in front of our quarters by Lieutenant Waters, 



Ii6 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

who found that we had only about ten or twelve Springfield 
muskets besides those used by the guards on the bridge ; 
but we all had sabres. After full instructions from the lieu- 
tenant, a skirmish line was formed, the men provided with 
muskets in front. We were ordered to keep a strict watch 
for the advance of the enemy, and to hold ourselves in readi- 
ness to support the skirmishers, or look out for themselves, 
as many did, early in the movement, by hiding along the 
banks of the river. After being out all night, with no sign 
of the enemy, we were ordered back to our quarters, and 
thus ended our first military exploit. 

From this time on, while stationed at Harewood, we 
drilled every day. With boating, fishing and hunting the 
time passed pleasantly, until we received orders to move to 
Washington, D. C, where we arrived on the i6th of August, 
1862. A part of the regiment had received horses at Balti- 
more, and marched from there to Washington, and had a 
camp already established. The camp was on the historical 
dueling ground of Bladensburg, where many a noted char- 
acter lost his life in an affair of honor. It was also the bat- 
tlefield where the British defeated the Americans and took 
the city of Washington, sacked and burned the capital, on 
August 24, 1 8 14, just forty-eight years before. "Uncle 
Abe," with Secretary Seward, came out to see us now and 
then on dress parade. The boys were getting along pretty 
well breaking in the green horses, though in some cases it 
was hard to determine which was the greenest, the man or 
the horse. 

On August 23d I was detailed with ten other officers and 
men of the regiment to recruit for the Tenth New York 
Volunteer Cavalry in accordance with general orders from 
the War Department. Under command of Lieutenant 



IN THE ARMY 117 

Waters this detachment went to New York State at once 
and commenced recruiting for four new companies. Offices 
were opened in different parts of the State, with Elmira as 
the general rendezvous. I succeeded in enUsting forty men, 
and on the 29th of October was mustered in with Company 
L as second Heutenant. 

Although I worked hard to get my men, it was an interest- 
ing and pleasant experience for me, as most of the time I 
was among intimate friends. Many amusing incidents oc- 
curred, as well as many sad ones. When the husband 
parted from a loved and loving wife and little ones to give 
his life for his country it was indeed sad. To realize such 
scenes one must witness them. By some of the women I was 
abused for taking away their husbands ; by others a contrary 
effect was noticeable, for they seemed to be glad to have 
them go. Strange to say, out of the forty men I enlisted 
not a man was killed in action, though some were wounded, 
and some died in hospital ; but most of them lived to return 
after the war was over. 

On the 25th of October, Companies I, K, and L received 
their clothing, and on the 30th we started for Alexandria, 
Va., and arrived there on the 2d day of November and went 
into camp. We received the regular army ration of hard- 
tack, pork, beans, etc., and one blanket, and had good, soft 
Virginia mud to sleep on. The boys stood it pretty well, 
but the pork was full of life, and so animated that one of 
the boys said his pork walked off in the night. Complaint 
was made, and after that we had a good, fresh meat ration. 
I was mostly employed in drilling the men on foot for the 
first week, when we were ordered to Washington to receive 
our horses, which by the way, were a fine lot of animals. 
Some days intervened before we got our equipment, arms, 



ii8 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

etc. On the 26. of December we left camp and joined the 
regiment on the 5th instant at Brook's Station during a 
snow-storm. 

A few days after we reached the regiment my company 
was ordered to report to headquarters of General Franklin's 
division for duty. We left the regiment on December 10, 
1862, and reported to the general, and were ordered to camp 
near headquarters. On December nth fifty men were de- 
tailed for orderlies. Heavy cannonading was heard all that 
day. Vanderbilt commanded the bodyguard of General 
Smith. On the morning of the 12th of December the left 
wing of the army was on the move towards Fredericksburg. 
Early in the morning the company was drawn up in line to 
await the action of the general, who soon made his appear- 
ance and led off at a very brisk gallop, followed by the body- 
guard. Vanderbilt started out to keep up with the general, 
and I was doing my best to keep up with Vanderbilt. The 
company of green men who had just joined the army, with 
their horses loaded like a pack-train, was a most ludicrous 
sight. The following account of this march was written 
by Captain Vanderbilt for the regimental history : "My com- 
pany had been mustered into the service about six weeks 
before, and had received horses less than a month prior to 
this march, and in the issue we drew everything on the 
schedule — watering bridles, lariat ropes and pins ; in fact, 
there was nothing on the printed list of supplies that we did 
not get. Many men had extra blankets, some large quilts 
presented by some fond mother or maiden aunt (dear 
souls!), sabres and belts, together with the straps that pass 
over the shoulder; carbines and slings, pockets full of car- 
tridges, nose bags, and little extra bags for carrying oats, 
haversacks, canteens and spurs, some of thern of the Mexi- 



IN THE ARMY 119 

can pattern, as large as small windmills, and more in the 
way than the spurs on the legs of a young rooster, catching 
in the grass when they walked, gathering of briars, vines 
and weeds, catching their pants, and in the way generally ; 
currycombs, brushes, button lints, overcoats, frying-pans, 
cups, coffee pots, etc. Now, the old companies had become 
used to these things, and had got down to light marching 
condition gradually, had learned how to wear the uniform, 
sabre and carbine, etc. ; but my company had hardly time 
to get into proper shape, when the "General" was sounded, 
''boots and saddles" blown, and Major Falls commanded: 
"Shoun," "Airr," ''Ount," "Aoun." Such a rattling, jing- 
ling, scrabbling, cursing I never heard before. Green horses 
— some of them had never been ridden before — turned round 
and round, backed against each other, jumped up, or stood 
up like trained circus horses. Some of the boys had a pile 
in front, on their saddles, and one in the rear, so high and 
heavy that it took two men to saddle one horse, and two men 
to help the fellow into his place. The horse sheered out, 
going sideways, pushing the well-disposed animals out of 
position, etc. Some of the boys had never rode anything 
since they galloped on a hobby-horse, and clasped their legs 
close together, thus unconsciously sticking their spurs into 
their horses' sides. Well, this was the crowd I commanded 
to mount on the morning I was ordered by General Smith to 
follow him. We got in line at headquarters, and when he 
got ready to start he started all over. He left no doubt 
about his starting! As soon as I could get my breath I 
shouted, ''By fours, for'd, arch !" then, immediately, "Gallop, 
arch," and away we went over the hard frozen ground to- 
v;ards Fredericksburg. In less than ten minutes Tenth 
New York Cavalrymen might have been seen on every hill 



120 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

for two miles rearward. Poor fellows ! I wanted to help 
them, but the general was "on to Richmond/' and I hardly 
dared look back for fear of losing him. I did not have the 
remotest idea where he was going, and didn't know but 
that he was going to keep it up all day. It was my first Vir- 
ginia ride as a warrior in the field. My uneasiness may be 
imagined. I was wondering what in the mischief I should 
say to the general when we halted, and none of the com- 
pany there but me. He was the first real, live general I had 
seen who was going out to fight. Talk about the "Flying 
Dutchman !" Blankets slipped from under saddles and hung 
by one corner. Saddles slid back until they were on the 
rumps of the horses ; others turned and were on the under- 
side of the animals; horses running and kicking; tin pans, 
mess kettles, patent sheet-iron camp stoves the boys had 
seen advertised in the illustrated papers, and sold by the 
sutlers at Alexandria — about as useful as a piano or fold- 
ing-bed — flying through the air, and all I could do was to 
give a hasty glance to the rear and sing out at the top of 
my voice, "Close up !" Poor boys ! they coulda't close. Their 
eyes stuck out like a maniac's. We went only a few miles, 
but the boys didn't all get there till noon. My company was 
used as orderlies to infantry generals. Pitt I\Iorse was 
orderly to General Russell. One day the general was sitting 
on his horse, witli Morse just behind him, when he (Morse) 
spied a nice round percussion shell lying on the ground. He 
jumped off and got it. Having no other place to put it, he 
laid it on his oats bag in front, intending to take it home 
"when he went" (wasn't that innocence?). The general 
suddenly turned to give him an order, when his astonished 
gaze fell upon Morse's shell. "What in the world have you 
got there?" shouted the general, laying his hand threaten- 



IN THE ARMY I2i 

ing-ly on his revolver. "Get down off that horse, and don't 
^ou drop that shell. Be careful now. Go and lay it in that 
water, and then report to your commanding officer. I don't 
need you any longer." 

On the night of the 12th and morning of the 13th of De- 
cember the whole army crossed the Rappahannock and at- 
tacked the rebels in their strongholds on the heights back 
of Fredericksburg. It was a hard fight all day. General 
George D. Bayard, who at the time commanded the cavalry, 
was killed. My duties during the day were carrying dis- 
patches and moving squads of prisoners across the river 
and delivering them to the provost marshal at headquarters, 
on the north side of the Rappahannock. On the night of 
the 13th, during a drizzling rain and fog, I camped with a 
small squad of our men in the mud near the river, and had 
orders not to unsaddle our horses. With a poncho spread 
on top of the mud, I wrapped my martial cloak around me 
and laid down to my dreams with the bridle reins over my 
arm. My faithful horse made a path clear around me, care- 
fully stepping over my legs, without disturbing me during 
the night. At daylight on the 14th we were aroused by the 
artillery firing from both sides of the river, and while our 
squad was sitting over the fire, trying to make a little coffee 
in our tin cups, a shell came whizzing along and struck 
square in the centre of the fire. Our coffee vvas ruined, but 
the shell did not explode or injure either of us or our horses. 
W'e went without coft'ee that morning. 

The battle was now raging with great fury all along the 
whole line, and we were all soon called to duty. That after- 
noon J was carrying dispatches to General Newton just as 
our men were ordered to storm Marye Heights. He was 
standing on a knoll about a quarter of a mile away from the 



122 ONE OK THE PEOPLE 

storming line, and as he stepped to his horse to write an 
answer to the dispatch I had brought him he handed me his 
field glass, and through it I had a splendid sight of the 
charge, when our men were mowed down like grass before 
the scythe. Seldom were so many men killed in so short a 
time as in the few minutes I looked through General New- 
ton's glass. It was one of the worst slaughters of the war. 

On the 14th, 15th and i6th General Burnside moved the 
army back to the north side of the river. We were about the 
last to recross, about two o'clock on the morning of Decem- 
ber 1 6th. The night was very dark. We reached the heights 
north of Fredericksburg and camped in the woods. Van 
says to me, "Pick a good place to sleep" ; so I found a hollow 
place between two knolls, where we spread our blankets and 
crawled in. In the course of an hour or so a hard rain set 
in, and it was not long before the water was several inches 
deep under and around us. Van never got up so quick in 
his life, nor was I very slow, either. About the first thing 
Van called for was "your canteen." I handed it to him 
and said he, "Here's looking at you. Damn you. Couldn't 
you pick out a better bed than that for your superior offi- 
cer?" We slept but little the rest of the night, but were 
glad to find ourselves alive after our first battle. Early the 
next morning our Ethiopian cook prepared a breakfast of 
"lob scouse" and salt horse, with cofifee, and we established 
a temporary camp and rested. The next night we slept till 
reveille sounded and began to feel like ourselves again. 

On the 2d of January, 1863, we were ordered to join our 
regiment at Camp Bayard, near Belle Plain landing on Ac- 
quia Creek, Va. On the 6th the whole regiment was or- 
dered on picket between the Potomac and the Rappahan- 
nock, but were relieved after three or four days. On Janu- 



IN THE ARMY 123 

ary 20th our company was ordered on picket near Muddy 
Creek, with pickets along the Rappahannock river. A terri- 
ble storm raged all the while we were out. The army had 
started in to move, but got stuck in the mud, and had to re- 
turn to camp. We were in camp until the 28th, when the 
whole regiment was ordered out on a scout during a heavy 
snow storm which continued until the snow was six inches 
deep. We camped that night in a piece of woods and I lay 
on two rails to keep out of the mud and water. The next 
morning was cold and frosty, and the regiment suffered 
severely. I was ordered to take twenty men and thoroughly 
explore Matthias Point (a large tract of land extending out 
into the Potomac river), and drive in any cattle that I might 
find there. This was where the rebels had a large stock of 
cattle for army purposes. We found about fifty head, 
but they were as wild as deer, and with only twenty men it 
was an impossibility to drive them out, and the next day 
we returned to camp. 

February 3rd was a very cold day, but the paymaster paid 
us off and consequently all were happy. The paymaster is 
always the most welcome guest that ever visits the army. 
On the 9th, loth and nth of February we vv^ere on picket 
duty at Widow Gray's farm. The regiment was short of 
meat, and I was ordered to take five men and visit the widow 
and inform her that we would have to take one of her fat 
cattle for beef, for which I was to give her a receipt that 
would be cashed by the government at some future time. 
The widow received me very graciously, but was very loath 
to part with any of her stock, but finally consented to let 
me have one only. She became very talkative, and asked me 
many questions. She asked my occupation before joining 
the army, J told her that I was a painter. "Oh, indeed," 



124 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

says she. "Well, I have something I wish you to see, and 
although you are a Yankee I will take you to my parlor and 
show you some paintings from the old masters, several of 
which I bought in Europe when my dear husband and I 
made a tour of the continent a good many years ago. I'll 
tell you," she says, "my husband, he is dead now, poor soul, 
always declared that I was not a good judge of art, and 
of two paintings we never could agree which was the best 
as a work of art. The one I thought was the best he de- 
clared was the poorest, and I have always wished for some 
one who knew what good paintings were to look at them, 
and decide who was right, or who had the most artistic 
taste," and she motioned me to follow to a large parlor that 
was lined with pictures and portraits. "Now," she says, 
"here are the two paintings, and I am not going to tell you 
which I think is the best, but I want you to say. My hus- 
band always thought the shadows were so perfect in that one, 
but there is one over there (pointing to one en the other side 
of the room) in which the shading is better. Now, lieuten- 
ant, take a good look at them both, and give me your de- 
cision." I thought that if this lady knew that I was only a 
sign painter, she would not be so enthusiastic — but I pro- 
ceeded to scan the pictures closely, changing positions to get 
a different light on them. I carried out the deception to the 
best of my ability, and from the remark that she had al- 
ready dropped knew very well which she thought the best. 
So after some minutes of critical examination and con- 
sideration I pronounced the one that I thought was her 
favorite as the better picture. She clapped her hands in 
glee, and remarked that our tastes were very much alike, 
and ventured to questioned me about other pictures that she 
possessed. I begged to be excused, but promised to call and 



IN THE ARMY 125 

look them over at some future time, which she very cor- 
dially invited me to do. Some weeks after this I was after 
another head of her stock for beef and she was so mad about 
it that she forgot all about the pictures. 

On the 1 6th of February we were sent on picket, with 
headquarters near King George's Court House, and I was 
detailed to act as regimental quartermaster and commis- 
sary. My duties were to furnish the regiment with forage 
for the horses, and meat for the men. We got most of our 
beef by shooting cattle on Matthias Point. I had a detail 
of twenty of the best men each day, and most of the time 
we were outside the lines. I longed for a brush with the 
enemy when outside the lines, but we never saw more than 
two or three at a time, and they soon got out of our way. 

One day I learned of a planter who lived on the banks of 
the Potomac, and had a large amount of corn and other 
provisions, but he was about fifteen miles outside of our 
lines. I had my men ready to start at sunrise the next 
morning, and we reached the plantation at ten o'clock a.m. 
and found cribs full of corn, hay, turkeys and chickens, 
cattle, several yokes of oxen, carts, wagons, etc. The pro- 
prietor was a well-preserved man of about eighty years of 
age, and a thoroughbred rebel. I informed him that we 
were after forage and would have to press into service a 
few of his teams and negroes to drive them to camp, but 
that they would be returned. I told him also that receipts 
for everything taken would be given him and he could collect 
from Uncle Sam, providing he could prove his loyalty to the 
government. He listened very attentively to my recital, and 
when I paused for a reply, he broke out with an oath, say- 
ing, ''Damn you, we will feed you if necessary and whip 
you and then make you pay for it all in the end. Say," 



126 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

says he, "you blue-coated Yank, you seem to be quite a 
decent sort of a chap, or was, perhaps, before you got into 
the army. Come into the house and take a drink with me, 
damn you." "In a moment," said I, and I turned to the 
sergeant and gave him orders to press into service all the 
carts and negroes and load up with corn and hay, ready to 
start, and report the amount to me at the house, but first 
station a few pickets outside to give the alarm and avoid any 
surprise. 

"Now, sir," said I, "I am ready to enjoy your hospitality 
while the boys are getting ready to return to camp." 

The house was situated on a high bluff, overlooking the 
broad Potomac, with a magnificent view for many miles 
down the river. The view up the river was obstructed by 
a piece of woods. In walking about the grounds I noticed 
at the foot of the bluff a snug little cove, v^here a couple 
of large-sized sailboats were anchored, entirely hidden from 
view from the river or the surrounding country. Some 
months after this I learned that this was the route by which 
mail, medicines, and other contraband goods were taken 
through to Richmond, Va., from the North. In the course 
of an hour, the sergeant reported the amount of forage 
taken, for which I gave a receipt, and we were soon on our 
way to camp. When we reached our lines and camped, I 
found that we had turkeys, chickens, two small pigs, plenty 
of wine and some fresh pork, corn bread freshly made, that 
I had not receipted for, but we enjoyed it all the same, and 
early the next morning distributed our forage where it was 
most needed. A turkey, a pig, and a canteen of wine was 
sent to headquarters with my compliments. They were 
thankfully received and no questions asked. The next day 
.we went after beef at Matthias Point. 



IN THE ARMY 127 

I mention these little incidents, which I enjoyed very 
much, as a few of the bright spots in the desert of a soldier's 
life. It did not take me long to get a good knowledge of 
the surrounding country. There were some good pickings 
inside the lines, but I reserved them for stormy weather and 
emergencies when we hadn't time to forage outside the 

lines. 

James Mason, an ex-Congressman, and brother to the 
Mason who was with Slidel, when captured on their way to 
England, had a fine residence and plantation in the vicinity, 
well stocked with everything in the way of forage, corn, 
hogs, etc., that was available when needed. Mr. Mason was 
laid up at home with the gout, but was able to hobble around 
a little. During a severe storm, two of the companies on 
picket ran short of forage and provisions, and called upon 
me to furnish them at once, as they were in want. I at 
once made a detail of several men and marched them up 
to Mr. Mason's stately mansion, and, knocking at the front 
door, called for Mr. Mason. I found him at home and was 
asked into the reception room to await the appearance of the 
gentleman, and took the sergeant with me. We did not 
have long to wait before he came hobbling in and wished 
to know my business. I introduced myself, and told him in 
consequence of the storm we were obliged to call upon him 
for a fat steer, a load of corn, and some hay. With a groan, 
he cried out, ''My God ! My God ! when will this thing cease. 
Why, sir, the 8th Illinois regiment has nearly impoverished 
me, and I have scarcely enough left to keep my family from 
starving." *T am sorry, Mr. Mason, but our men and horses 
have got to be supplied." His answer was, ''Oh, my God! 
my God!" I turned to the sergeant and told him what to 
take, and use Mr. Mason's oxen to haul the forage to the 



128 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

camps, and when ready to go, report to me, so that I could 
give Mr. Mason a receipt. Mr. Mason asked me into the 
dining room where a cheerful fire was burning in the fire- 
place, told me to be seated, while he dropped into a large 
easy chair, with the same old groan of ''My God! my God!" 
He then turned to me and said, ''Lieutenant, please ring 
that bell on the table for me," which I did, and presently a 
colored servant appeared. He told her to bring up a bottle 
of wine and a bottle of brandy with sugar and glasses, and 
a plate of crackers and cheese, and ended with a groan of 
"Oh, my God! my God!" Thinking perhaps that he was 
suffering with pain, I asked if that was the case, but he said 
not, only at times. At that moment the servant returned 
with the refreshments, and after taking a small drink of 
brandy, Mr. Mason seemed to brighten up very much. Our 
conversation drifted away from war matters, and I found 
him entertaining, genial, and a good conversationalist. He 
seemed pleased with my company, and cordially asked me to 
call again, "though," said he, with a merry twinkle in his 
eyes, "not on the same errand." 

"On the 1st of March we returned to camp, but were 
ordered out on picket at the same place on the 9th for ten 
days. I was detailed, as before, and looked over some new 
country with varied results. One day we found a mill full 
of flour and grain, owned by a rank old rebel whose love for 
Jeff Davis was red hot. We could find no means of trans- 
portation, and had to resort to carrying a sack of flour on 
each horse. In returning to cam^p I stopped at a log cabin 
not far from the mill to inquire the way to King George's 
Court House. An elderly lady and two grown up daughters 
came to the door and welcomed us heartily as Union soldiers. 
This was a great surprise to us, as almost invariably the 



IN THE ARMY 129 

people in that region were "secesh." We found that they 
had been robbed of everything by rebel soldiers, and that 
the owner of the mill refused to furnish them flour or meal 
for any consideration, although he owed her son for work. 
But this son was in the Union army, and sometimes sent 
them a little money. We left them a sack of flour and 
promised to come back the next day and attend to their 
wants. I had my full complement of men back the next 
day to the mill and called upon our rebel friend, the owner. 
I always had a butcher with my squad, and that day had 
two, whom I ordered to find and kill the largest hog about 
the mill, and dress it while the rest of the boys loaded up 
with cornmeal and flour. We were soon ready and went 
back to the cabin occupied by the three Union ladies, and 
gave them provisions enough to last them a year. I set 
four or five of the boys at work hiding the flour under the 
floor of the cabin, and had the hams and shoulders salted and 
hung up in the chimney. While the boys were engaged in 
this work, I sent the rest of the squad back to the mill to 
load up for camp and return as soon as they could. The 
old mill owner got out his old shotgun and threatened to 
shoot, but the boys took away his gun and broke it up, and 
informed him if those ladies were disturbed or robbed again, 
no matter by whom, they would return and burn his house 
down and send him a prisoner to the North. Whatever be- 
came of them I do not know. We visited them two or three 
weeks after, but they had not been molested. The old lady 
and her daughters shed tears of joy, and blessed us over and 
over again for our kindness. 

We returned to camp on the 20th of March, but on the 
27th were again ordered on picket. The weather was get- 
ting good, and the roads better, but meat was getting scarce 



130 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

near our lines. I took my squad of picked men, and went 
twenty miles down the neck before we found anything. 
There we saw about fifty sheep in a field back of an old 
house some little distance from the main road, with a high- 
fenced lane leading up to the house. I halted the men and 
explained to them what I wished them to do, but in any 
event I expected to find a sheep with each man, except the 
sergeant and two men men who would accompany me to the 
house. These two men were to load up widi poultry. All 
the commands I made while with the man of the house were 
to mean exactly the opposite. I halted the men near the 
house and approached the front steps, when a tall, fine-look- 
ing old Virginia gentleman came out, about sixty-five years 
of age. An elderly woman wearing a sun bonnet was be- 
hind him. I found them to be bitter rebels. I soon heard 
a shot in the direction of the sheep, which caused the old 
man to tremble a little, and just then a chicken squawked. 
I think I never saw a woman jump so high or give such an 
unearthly yell as the old lady did. 'My chickens ! my chick- 
ens! why don't you stop them, Mr. Officer?" and away she 
went to the rescue. I yelled to the boys to let those chickens 
alone, and just then five or six shots were heard in the direc- 
tion of the sheep. It then dawned upon the old man that the 
soldiers were after his sheep. He raved and swore, and 
begged me to stop them, so I sent the sergeant to tell the boys 
to stop killing those sheep, or I would put them under arrest. 
Off went the sergeant, and I told the old man if he would be 
quiet I would give him a receipt for all the sheep taken. 
''Damn you and your receipt, I want you and your damned 
crew to let my sheep alone." The old man was pacing up and 
down the walk in front of the house with arms flying and 
Qursing the Union and all there was in it. Every now and 



IN THE ARMY 131 

then a scream from the old woman was heard in the direc- 
tion of the barn where she was after the boy with a pitch- 
fork, all the while yelling for help, and calling the old man 
a variety of bad names because he ignored her appeals for 
help. It was not long before the sergeant reported "All 
ready," and I bid the old man good day, and we started for 
camp twenty miles away. On looking over my little column 
I found every man had a sheep, and a score of chickens were 
tied to the different saddles. Our march extended far into 
the night before we got into camp, and the boys and horses 
were nearly worn out. 

A day or two afterwards I visited Mr. IVEason for more 
corn and hay, but for some reason he seemed more cheerful, 
and on my departure presented me with a bottle of his best 
brandy. 

The orders regarding foraging were very strict, but that 
part of the country, being quite thickly settled, numerous 
complaints were brought into headquarters. It was a little 
hard on the boys to see pigs and chickens running loose 
when on picket, munching hard tack and salt horse, and 
often short of that. 

Captain Vanderbilt, with Company L, was picketing on 
the land of a long, lank, lean old rebel, who had several 
good-sized pigs running loose, and the old man had early 
applied for protection for his animals, which was granted, 
and strict orders issued to Captain Van to see that they were 
carried out. A few mornings after, the old man was early 
at headquarters with a bitter complaint against Captain 
Van's company for killing all his pigs. Of course the major 
was very indignant that his orders had been disobeyed, and 
if the gentleman would take a seat he would send for Captain 
Vanderbilt to report to headquarters at once, and know the 



132 ONE OF. THE PEOPLE 

/ 
reason why he should not pay for depredations committed 
against orders. An orderly brought the guilty captain to 
headquarters at once, and as the captain stepped inside the 
tent he saluted, and asked Major Avery if he had sent for 
him. "Yes, sir," said the major, and turning to the old 
man asked him to repeat his complaint to the captain. The 
old man did so in very bitter terms. After he was through, 
Major Avery said in his pompous way, "Well, sir, Captain 
Vanderbilt, is it true what this man says?" **It may be," 
said the captain, rather meekly. **Well, sir," said the major, 
"what have you to say about it, and the disobedience of 
orders, sir?" "Well, I will tell you how it was, major," said 
the captain, with a very long face. "You see, major, one of 
my men was on picket in a very lonely place in the woods, 
and during the night this soldier was attacked by this man's 
pig, and the soldier got the best of it. That is all there is 
to it." With a roar of laughter from everybody in the tent, 
and a wave of the hand from the major, the captain went 
back to the company. 

Of course our picketing so much near King George's Court 
House caused us to become acquainted with many of the 
citizens, and among them were many handsome young 
ladies, who, for the most part, were very enthusiastic rebels, 
taunted us by singing rebel songs and pretended to hate 
everything from the North, soldiers in particular. Still the 
boys persisted in paying more or less attention to them, 
notwithstanding their sneers. 

There was a couple of young ladies, about twenty years 
of age, living alone, about a mile from regimental head- 
quarters. They were very good looking, but repulsed all 
attempts on part of the soldiers to pay them any attentions. 
Lieutenant Robb, of Company D, and myself proposed to. 



■^ IN THE ARMY i33 

make them a visit. So we started out one cool evening, 
having apprised them of our intention to call. Their house 
was inside our lines, and we were not in much fear of bemg 
disturbed. When we arrived, we hitched our horses to a 
pole on top of two posts, high above their heads. It re- 
minded me of a story I had read in a newspaper when 1 
was a boy, and I told Robb that I would tell it in the course 
of the evening if everything was agreeable. Much to our 
surprise, we found the ladies awaiting our arrival with ap- 
parent pleasure, as they gave us a cordial greeting and a 
welcome that was very unusual from rebel girls that hated 
the Yankees. They were very sociable, and soon made us 
feel quite at home. Being a little anxious about our horses, 
Robb went out to see if they were all safe, and when he re- 
turned, called upon me for the story I had promised him, 
and the ^irls said they would be delighted to hear it. I re- 
marked that as it was a war story they might not relish it. 
-Oh yes we would," said they. "Well," said I, "as it hap- 
pened during the Revolutionary War, and all of us being 
descendants of Revolutionary sires, it will not jar upon 
either rebel or Union nerves. 

"Well there was a brigade of American soldiers in winter 
quarters up in Vermont during the Revolutionary War, and, 
as a matter of course, all the young ladies in the immediate 
vicinity were petted and courted by many of the officers 
of the brigade. About a mile from headquarters of the 
brigade lived a fairly well-to-do gentleman v/ho had a very 
pretty daughter of about twenty summers, and being an only 
child did pretty much as she pleased, and received quite a 
number of the young officers as suitors, but somehow they all 
dropped off but one, and he went often enough to make up 
for the whole squad. He was a regular little dandy sort ot 



134 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

a fellow and put on more airs than a major-sjeneral should 
or could. He was a lieutenant and so little esteemed in his 
own company that his captain, by some means, got him put 
on staff duty at headquarters. He was very proud and 
dignified and put on more airs than ever, and would hardly 
speak to his former comrades. He pretended to be a great 
disciplinarian, dressed very neatly, but always had his nose 
in other people's business. In fact, so disagreeable had he 
made himself that he was thoroughly hated by the whole 
brigade, both rank and file. This popinjay was the accepted 
suitor of the beautiful daughter whom I spoke of and his 
visits to the lady's home were almost of nightly occurrence. 
He had a favorite pony that he always rode on his visits. 
The house with the front porch stood back from the road 
about one hundred yards, and on one side of the gate were 
two posts, about as high as a man could reach, with a pole 
extending from one post to the other, and fastened securely 
to this pole were pins, at an angle of forty-five degrees, 
over which a person could throw the reins of the bridle, 
and secure the horse without the trouble of tying. To this 
pole the young lieutenant would ride, throw the reins over 
the pin, jump off and walk up to the house. The soldier 
boys had been watching all his movements, and learned them 
to a fraction. They knew just how long he would stay, and 
exactly what he would do. The young lady always came 
out on the porch, gave him a parting kiss and held the light 
so that he could see his way down the path. A near neigh- 
bor had a gentle old cow that was kept in the road most of 
the time, and the boys conceived the idea of playing a trick 
on the young lieutenant to take him down a peg or two. So 
one dark, misty night, just after a heavy rain, the lieutenant 
made his customary visit as usual, and left the pony under 



IN THE ARMY ^35 

the pole. A regiment or more were lined up on each side 
S the road from headquarters to the house, and the ne.gh- 
bor-s cow was gently driven to the place where the pony 
was standing, th'e pony removed, and the - qu.etly fj - 
its place. The saddle of the pony was transferred to the back 
o ?he cow, and the bridle securely fastened to her taxi, with 
the reins over the pin. The pony was led away and every- 
thing was ready, with the old cow in position and two ardent 
m "Tandy by'lo keep here there until the l-uten-ts ar- 
rival. The pair soon appeared on the porch, and with a k ss 
they parted, she holding a tallow candle to hght the pathway. 
He reached for the bridle reins, and felt the stirrup, and 
vaulted into the saddle. With a jab of the spurs away went 
the old cow with a bellow that aroused the whole hne The 
boys yelled and fired off their pistols-but on went the old 
cow, straight to the headquarters of the brigade. The lieu- 
tenant lost his hat, but held on manfully during his back- 
ward ride, probably the most astonished man that ever 
fought for his country on the back of a cow The tor> 
pleased the young ladies so well that they always met me 
with a smile whenever I saw them. Robb and I spent a 
number of pleasant evenings in their company. _ 

Not far from where these girls lived was a young married 
woman, whose husband was in the rebel army. One day 
while passing her house she called me and asked me nto 
her house, as she wished to have a talk with me. As I v a 
in a hurry then, I excused myself, but P'-^™^^^ *o caU 
some other time, which I did soon afterwards. She then 
told me that her husband was in the rebel army, and fearin 
he would be killed, she wanted him to be taken prisoner 
If I would help her she would get hira to come home and 
while he was there I was to capture him. I told her to go 



136 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

ahead and let me know when he was there, and I would 
attend to the rest. As we passed the house frequently, she 
said that when I saw a white towel hanging out of her front 
window, it would be a sign for me to call, so 1 watched for 
the signal and one day found it hanging out. I called, and 
she told me that the man would be there on a certain night, 
and two others would come with him. Our pickets were 
withdrawn the next day, but I waited for the time to come 
when I could capture the man in accordance with previous 
arrangement. This part of Virginia was new outside our 
lines. 

In the afternoon of the day that I was to capture the man, 
I went to Major Avery, and asked him for a detail of 
twenty-five men to go outside the lines. He told me to pick 
my men. This I found difficult as over a hundred men 
asked to go with me. I selected the men I thought would 
be the most reliable and with two sergeants we passed out 
of the lines. There was a bright moon and we made good 
time. Knowing all the roads well I did not need a guide, 
but sent an advance guard of three men and a sergeant two 
hundred feet or so in front. The first house we went to 
where I expected to find one of the men was securely locked 
up. We quietly surrounded it, and I went to the front door 
with a sergeant and knocked. The woman of the house 
would not let us in. I gave orders to the men to bring a 
rail to break down the door, when she concluded to let us 
in. On going into a bed-room, I found evidence that two 
persons had been there, but the woman declared that there 
was no man in the house. We soon found another woman, 
but no signs of a man. Procuring lights, I called a man to 
stand guard below, while the sergeant and I explored the 
upper regions of the house. No one could be found, but I 



IN THE ARMY II37 

saw a barrel standing under an opening to a dark span in 
the peak of the roof, near a bed-room, and concluded to see 
what was there. Climbing on top of the barrel, and prodding 
the hole with my sabre I heard a slight rustling and found 
my man. "Come out of that," said I, "or I'll shoot." Hold 
on," says he, "I'll come down," and down he came covered 
with cobwebs. As we escorted him downstairs, the woman 
cried out, "I didn't lie to you ; he went away as I said, but he 
came back again." After mounting him behind one of the 
boys, we proceeded to the next place where I had arranged 
for capturing the husband. Surrounding the house as before, 
I went to the door and knocked. The woman was up in 
arms at once. I told her it was no use, I had the house sur- 
rounded. The man was lying in bed, but we soon had him 
on a horse, leaving a happy wife behind. 

We returned to the regiment, and turned over our prison- 
ers to the provost marshal. This ended our picketing and 
picnicking on the neck between the Potomac and Rappahan- 
nock rivers in the winter of 1862-3. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



THE BATTLE FIELD. 



From this time until the close of the war the regiment 
was actively and continuously engaged in field service, much 
of which was of a character to test its courage and powers 
of endurance. Its movements and operations are fully record- 
ed in Preston's History of the Tenth New York Cavalry, and 
I will omit further accounts of my personal experiences and 
adventures while connected with it until reaching events im- 
mediately preceding my capture at the battle of St. Mary's 
Church, June 24, 1864, with the exception of my sketch of 
the important battle of Brandy Station, written for the regi- 
mental history referred to above, and a few anecdotes to il- 
lustrate some of the amusing, as well as tragic scenes that 
occur in a soldier's life to occasionally break its monotony. 

As acting adjutant, regimental quartermaster, brigade 
provost marshal, etc., during this period, previous to my 
being commissioned as captain, in July, 1863, I had varied 
and responsible duties to perform that enabled me to par- 
ticipate in affairs outside of the routine of mere company 
duty. 

BATTLE OF BRANDY STATION. 

At the time of the battle of Brandy Station, I was actiiig 
as adjutant of the regiment. On the 8th of June, 1863, our 

J38 



THE BATTLE FIELD 139 

regiment, with the entire division-the third commanded by 
General Gregg-was moved to the vicinity o Kelly s Ford, 
and bivouacked. There was but little sleep, however. The 
men were animated with the prospect of meetmg the rebel 
cavalrv in a fair open field fight which the morrow prom- 
ised They had never been engaged as an unbroken whole, 
and now an opportunity was to be presented for displaymg 
the qualities of the regiment as a unit. There had been com- 
panies and detachments from it engaged at various times 
and places, and the men had acquitted themselves in all of 
these isolated cases with credit and increased their desire 
for a chance to see what the regiment could do united, it 
probably never counted so many officers and men in any 
other engagement, nor was the esprit-de-corps ever better. 
I have never witnessed, before or after, more enthusiasm 
and confidence than the men exhibited on this occasion. 
There was a positive eagerness for the meeting. The num- 
ber of men in the regiment who participated m the battle 
was about five hundred and they were led by one m whom 
they had the most perfect confidence, Liuetenant-Colone 
Irvine Every man responded promptly to the call to fall 
in" earlv in the morning on that memorable 9th of June, 
1863 The spirit of enthusiasm and good cheer pervaded the 
entire command of General Gregg as far as my observation 
extended, presaging the grand results which were to be re- 
corded of it that day. We crossed the Ford without oppo- 
sition and marched straight for Brandy Station where the 
rebel cavalry was known to be camped. The booming of 
Buford's guns up the river advised us that he had already 
encountered the enemy. Our advance guard met with no 
opposition until we were near the field which was so soon 
to be rendered historical as the battle ground between two 



I40 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

powerful cavalry corps of the opposing armies. When we 
reached the edge of the timber, about three-fourths of a 
mile from Brandy Station, we were halted and drawn up in 
squadron fronts, preparatory to charging into the open, 
where the rebels were rapidly concentrating. Occasional 
shells were dropped around us from the enemy's batteries 
on Fleetwood Hill, but they caused us no damage or un- 
easiness. Our second brigade, under Colonel Wyndham, had 
been engaged and met with some reverses. While awaiting 
orders our boys manifested the utmost restlessness and 
anxiety to engage in the battle. The order came. The 
voice of Lieutenant-Colonel Irvine rose clear and firm — 
"Attention ! Forward ! March !" and as soon as we had 
cleared the woods, "Trot, march, guide left!" How the 
hot blood coursed through my veins at that moment. Who 
can describe the feelings of a man on entering into a charge ? 
How exhilarating, yet how awful ! The glory of success 
in a charge is intoxicating. One forgets everything, even 
personal safety in the one grand thought of vanquishing the 
enemy. We were in for it now, and the nerves were strung 
to the highest tension. 

When about two-thirds of the distance intervening be- 
tween the starting point and the railroad had been passed, 
the command comes "Column, walk, draw sabers, trot!" 
The regiment was well in hand, the formation perfect. The 
enemy in small numbers advanced from the hill to oppose 
us. As a part of our line was crossing the railroad. Colonel 
Kirkpatrick with some staff officers passed us and ordered 
Colonel Irvine to charge to the right of the hill. Colonel 
Irvine immediately gave the command, "Gallop! Charge!" 
and the regiment swept up the hillside where they were met 
by a greatly superior force that had been concentrated on 



THE BATTLE FIELD 141 

that point as the key to the situation. It was a hand-to- 
hand struggle now. Here many of our brave boys went 
down. Colonel Irvine was on the left of the leading squad- 
ron, and I was at his left. The rebel line that swept down 
upon us came in splendid order, and when the two lines 
were about to close in they opened a rapid fire upon us. 
Then followed an indescribable clashing and slashing, bang- 
ing and yelling. My entire time was taken up in taking care 
of Lieutenant Porter at this time, and the rapidly moving 
panorama left no distinct recollection of anvthing that oc- 
curred in particular, outside of my individual experience. 
Two or three stalwart rebels crowded past me, intent on the 
capture of Colonel Irvine. I was of apparent little account 
in their desperate efforts to reach him. We were now so 
mixed up with the rebels that every man was fighting desper- 
ately to maintain the position until assistance could be 
brought forward. The front squadron broke to the right 
and left to allow the rear squadrons to come upon the enemy 
fresh. In an instant everything was mixed up and confused, 
and Colonel Irvine a prisoner. I made desperate efforts to 
attempt his recapture, but it was of no avail. Every man 
had all he could do in looking after himself. I found myself 
with but two or three of our men near, and concluded it 
would be best to release myself from the awkward position 
I was in as soon as possible. Just then a big rebel bore 
down upon me with his sabre raised. I parried the blow 
with my sabre, which, however, was delivered with such 
force as to partially break the parry, and left its mark 
across my back, and nearly unhorsed me. One of our boys 
probed my assailant from the rear, and he was dismounted. 
It was plain that I must get out then, if ever. The only 
avenue of escape was over a high embankment of the rail- 



142 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

road and a rebel squadron was advancing on that point, not 
far away. The rebel commander gave orders not to kill my 
horse, probably deeming me already a prisoner. Two jumps 
of the horse brought me to the top of the embankment. 
Every rebel in that squadron fired at me, but strangely 
enough, the only bullet that found its mark was one that 
burned my upper lip so badly that I thought that it had been 
carried away. But the next jump of the horse was over 
the embankment and out of their reach. I immediately 
made for an approaching column which I discovered in the 
nick of time to be Johnnies and changed my course. I saw 
Lieutenant Robb ahead of m.e, getting out of a ditch. My 
horse jumped the ditch, over the rear of Robb's horse and 
then a fence. Not more than fifty feet from this fence Robb 
was killed. He was a brave and enterprising officer. I had 
learned to respect him for his sterling qualities as an officer 
and a man. 

I finally reached the regiment in safety; others, like my- 
self, had become separated, coming in later, and the com- 
mand was reorganized by Major Avery, who was left in 
command by the capture of Colonel Irvine. Captain Van- 
derbilt, with Company L, was the last to come in and was 
chased by rebels, but lost no men. The battle of Brandy 
Station was fought by mounted cavalry entirely, and was 
the greatest cavalry battle of the war. With me it was 
peculiar in many ways. Acting as adjutant I had no one 
to command, and after the charge had no one to command 
me. I went into the fight with less fear than any other 
battle before or after. The excitement of the charge, the 
falling of my horse, and his almost instantaneous jump to his 
feet again and off for a point of safety, the bullets flying 
about us like bees, it was indeed most exciting, and I en- 



THE BATTLE FIELD 143 

joyed it better than any battle that I was ever in. My horse 
saved me from capture, and I got back to the east side of the 
Rappahannock in good order, except my back was pretty 
sore, with a blood blister about fourteen inches long, which 
the rebel gave me in our hand-to-hand encounter. 

A MONUMENT TO JENNIE WADE. 

While awaiting orders, July 4, after the battle of Gettys- 
burg, some of the men got into the town and brought back 
the news of the death of Jenny Wade by a rebel bullet while 
making bread for the Union soldiers. She was well known 
in our regiment and better known to me than to any of the 
others, as I used to spend many pleasant evenings with her 
at her home, when we were camped at Gettysburg in '61-2, 
as I have already said. The following article which I found 
in a recent newspaper will be of interest in connection with 
this event : "A monument to Jenny Wade, the brave Penn- 
sylvania girl, who was killed at the battle of Gettysburg, 
July 3, 1863, will soon be dedicated. The fund for the same 
has been raised by the Women's Relief Corps of Iowa. 
Jenny Wade was one of the heroines of the Civil War. as 
well known in her humble way, and as well loved as Barbara 
Frietchie. She it was who was killed by a stray bullet of the 
Confederates while makmg bread for the Union soldiers in 
the little brick house of her sister, in the stormiest and most 
dangerous part of the three days' battleground. Jenny 
Wade was only a young girl, but her sacrifice will always be 
remembered and perpetuated in the history of that sublime 
struggle. The first day of the battle she drew and carried 
water from the windlass well and filled the canteens of the 
Union soldiers, amid the shrieking of shells and the awful 



144 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

din of bullets and battle. She never swerved from her will- 
ing task of giving the cup of cold water to those brave men. 
Early, even before it was light, on the third day she was 
astir, getting in wood to heat the brick oven to bake bread 
for the soldiers, who were wearied with their two days of 
Titanic struggle. Very soon there was a call at the door 
for something to eat and she turned to her mother, saying, 
"I will make biscuits if you will prepare the fire in the 
stove," and turned to go about her work with a will, but be- 
fore she had done this a minie ball from an enemy's gun 
crashed through the window, and killed the brave girl in 
her sister's home. On the morning of July 3d this heroine 
paid the price of loyalty with her life. She was buried on 
the evening of July 4th by soldiers' hands, in a coffin pre- 
pared for a Confederate colonel who had fallen in battle. 
For thirty-eight years her grave has remained unmarked, but 
the Iowa Women's Relief Corps will dedicate a monument 
on the spot some time in September after the National G. 
A. R. Camp at Cleveland, Ohio. 

The movem.ent for a monument started in 1899 at the 
close of the National Encampment at Philadelphia, when the 
Iowa wom.en spent a day at Gettysburg, and resolved to 
render homage to the mem.ory of the brave Pennsylvania 
girl. The money is now all raised. The monument is to be 
of Barry granite and Italian marble, and will cost eight 
hundred dollars. Other States had the opportunity, but to 
Iowa will be given the credit for the work. On the monu- 
ment will be suitable inscriptions. , 

On the front will be, "J^""i^ Wade, killed while making 
bread for the Union soldiers." 

On the reverse side, "Erected by the Women's Relief 
Corps of Iowa A. D. 1901.** 



THE BATTLE FIELD 145 

One side will bear the words, "Whatsoever God willeth, 
must be, though a nation mourn." ^^ 

On the other side will be, "She hath done what she could. 

THE FIGHT AT SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

Early on the morning of the 12th of October the sharp 
crack of carbines in front brought the whole regiment into 
line, and we were ordered to support one of our batteries 
which was posted on the heights, west of the ford, and the 
old burned-down Sulphur Springs Hotel. Very soon Gen- 
eral Gregg ordered Colonel Avery to move the regiment 
across the river, go to the right about a mile, and draw up 
in line behind a strip of woods, then send one squadron to 
deploy as skirmishers, and advance to support them. The 
squadron chosen was the one that I commanded, and my 
orders were to advance until we met the enemy, engage 
them, and the regiment would follow us. We met the 
enemy's skirmishers in the woods, at the top of the hill, and I 
ordered a charge. The hill was so steep on the other side 
that when we got started down we could not stop, and we 
all rushed headlong into the head of Lee's army which was 
rapidly advancing. I gave the order for every man to take 
care of himself. The enemy did not seem to want to kill, 
but to capture us. I know not what others did, and speak 
only for myself, and for my own actions. Every rebel I 
passed tried to catch my horse, but I managed to dodge 
them, and, spurring my horse and fighting with my sabre, I 
made for their left beyond which was level ground. As 
soon as I got clear of them they began to shoot at me and 
the bullets kept up their music in my ears until I got out of 
sight. By going north about a quarter of a mile I got 



146 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

around the hill that we had advanced over, and turned to 
the right, going southeast, to get to the ford that we had 
crossed in coming over. It was a run of a mile or more, but 
it was my only chance to get to the river and over to our 
side. As I rounded the hill I saw no enemy, and I de- 
termined to make the ford as near direct as possible and as 
quickly as I could get there. 

I had not advanced far before I came in front of the 
enemy's line of advance skirmishers who were about twenty 
feet apart, and every one of them took a shot at me. I was 
about two hundred feet from them, and as they advanced 
kept me about that distance from them for the whole mile 
that I ran the gauntlet. 

With my arm over my horse's neck, I screened myself as 
much as I could behind the horse as he ran. The bullets 
went zip, zip, every second, and some came very close, but 
I could hear the rebels call out to each other, "Save the 
horse, save the horse," which was fortunate for me, as I 
reached the ford in safety without a scratch on man or 
horse. 

Talk about Sheridan's ride ! That was the ride of my 
life, although a short one. I know that my horse carried me 
rapidly, but it seemed hours to me. On reaching the ford 
I met General Gregg, and he said, ''Very narrow escape, 
captain." Avery was also nearby, and I reported to him 
that I had lost my company if not the whole squadron. 
"No," he said, "there are some of your boys on the hill,'* 
pointing where I could find them, and I soon joined them 
with a small nucleus of the regiment, probably seventy-five 
men altogether. "Hello, Captain!" said the boys, when I 
reached them, "we thought the rebs had you sure," and I 
had to relate how it all happened. Others came in one by 



one 



THE BATTLE FIELD 147 

^.x.. Avery came up and we were marched out on the pike 
toward Warrenton, a half mile or more, in rear of the divis- 
ion. The rebs were steadily advancing, and a good many 
had crossed the river, and fighting was going on all along 
the line. The ist N. J. Calvary were fighting in our im- 
mediate front and we were drawn up in line to support them. 
Our boys drove them back across the river, but it took 
them till after dark to do it. 

RE-ENLISTMENT AND FURLOUGH. 

Early in January, 1864, Colonel Irvine came to camp with' 
an order for the re-enlistment of the old eight companies, 
provided three-fourths of the men would re-enlist for three 
years, in which case they would be given a thirty days' fur- 
lough. Lieutenant Hayes was appointed recruiting officer 
and immediatelv began the work of re-enlistment. In this 
I took a deep interest, and was the first captain to recom- 
mend the same, and to induce the men of my company to re- 
enlist. I soon had three-fourths of my company enrolled, 
being the first of the old companies to do so. It was not 
long before the other companies had the necessary three- 
fourths, and a special order was issued, as follows : 

Headquarters, A. O. P., 

January 12, 1864. 

Special Orders No. 11. 

extract. 
Three-fourths of the following organizations having re- 
enlisted as veteran volunteers under the provisions of gen- 
eral orders of the War Department, governing the subject, 
the men so re-enlisted, as well as those who have less than 



148 . ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

fifteen months to serve, who have signed the required agree- 
ment, will proceed in a body with their officers to their re- 
spective States, and on arriving therein, the commanding 
officer will report through the Governor of the State to the 
superintendent of the recruiting service for further instruc- 
tions. 

The quartermaster's department will furnish the necessary 
transportation. Companies A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H and non- 
commissioned staff, Tenth New York Cavalry, three-fourths 
of the enlisted men, the lieutenant-colonel, one major, adju- 
tant, quartermaster, and commissary will accompany the 
battalion. 

By command of Major-General Sedgwick. 

S. Williams, Asst. Adj.-General. 

Captain Vanderbilt, of Company L., was placed in com- 
mand of those that remained in camp. On the 15th of Janu- 
ary we left Turkey Run for Washington and home. 

We arrived at Elmira, N. Y., on the evening of the 19th, 
where we broke ranks, and individually and collectively de- 
parted for our respective homes, where we were received 
with open arms and a glorious welcome. 

We were ordered to report at Elmira, February 21, 1864, 
giving us a full month at home, which was enjoyed to the 
best of our abilit3\ 

It is hardly necessary to go into details, but, of course, 
our sweethearts got their full share of attention during our 
furlough, and the 21st of February came too soon. Renewed 
pledges of affection were exchanged, and we went forth once 
more to save our glorious country and preserve the Union 
and the Flag with our lives if need be. We had become 
veterans, and knew what war meant, and were bound to 
conquer or die. We believed that the backbone of the rebel- 



THE BATTLE FIELD 149 

lion was broken at Gettysburg, yet there were powerful rebel 
armies in the field, and no signs of peace had come. 

Grant had been called to the command of all our armies, 
and we believed that we had at last got the right man in the 
right place. There was not half the discouragement among 
the soldiers as we found among the people at home. As 
for myself I had never given it a thought, except that we 
would be victorious at the end. Aly health was good when 
we reported at Elniira on the 21st of February, and I felt 
glad to take command of my old boys of Company G again, 
and I think most of the officers and men felt equally ready 
and willing to accept the fortunes of war again, though it 
was hard to part with the old folks at home. 

On the 29th of February the regiment left Elmira for New 
York, and thence back to our old camp on Turkey Run, Va., 
where we arrived on the 6th of March and were welcomed 
back to our old quarters by Captain Vanderbilt and the men 
left under his care when we went home. 

A RELIGIOUS REVIVAL. 

Nothing of mom.ent had occurred during our absence ex- 
cept a great revival of religion in some of the regiments of 
the division. A characteristic story of Vanderbilt and our 
chaplain was related to me in substance, as follows : One 
fine afternoon the chaplain came riding into camp and 
called at headquarters of the regiment, and inquired for 
Captain Vanderbilt, who came forth from his tent singing 
out, "Hello, chaplain, what's up?" "Say," said the chaplain, 
'T have just returned from one of the Pennsylvania regi- 
ments where we have been having a glorious revival meet- 
ing which you know has been going on for several days, 



150 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

and to-day wc have baptized twenty-one soldiers. Just 
think of it! Now, captain, don't you think we had better 
try to get up a revival in our regiment and push the good 
work along?" '*What regiment did you say, chaplain?" 
**Why, the i6th Pennsylvania Regiment." ''Well — yes. I 
think we had better do something. What do you propose, 
chaplain?" "Well, captain, suppose you call a meeting of 
all the companies at headquarters, and I will address them 
and we will see what can be done." **Do you want the 
meeting right away, chaplain?" "Yes, just as well now as 
any time," said the chaplain, highly delighted with his suc- 
cess thus far. "Orderly, inform the sergeant-major to re- 
port at headquarters at once, and bring a camp stool for the 
chaplain." The sergeant-major very soon reported, and 
Captain Vanderbilt ordered him to notify commanders of all 
the companies to send ten men to headquarters at once, and 
report without arms. Very soon after the squads from each 
company began to report, and the captain had them drawn 
up in line, until there were sixty men in line. All that came 
after were ordered to return to their quarters. When the 
men were all ready for marching by twos, the captain turned 
to the chaplain and, with a wave of his hand, said : "There, 
chaplain, are sixty good men which I turn over to you to be 
taken down to the creek and be baptized. No damned Penn- 
sylvania regiment is going to get ahead of the Tenth New 
York." 

The above was an actual occurrence and is only one of the 
many amusing scenes that seemed to delight the redoubtable 
Captain Vanderbilt whenever a chance was presented to per- 
petrate a joke. 



CHAPTER IX. 

MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE. 



ON the morning of the 24th day of June, just as the un 
was peeping up blood red through the mist we were takmg 
r hurried bite of hard tack and coiifee, when orders were 
Len to hurry up and be ready to advance, as our pickets 
were already fighting, but we had no idea that we were to get 
severely whipped that day for the first time dur.ng the war. 
We were soon on the move, and when the head of the column 
reached St. Mary's Church it met the rebel cavalry, who were 
easily driven back, but kept up skirmishnag all day untd 
three P.M., when the whole rebel cavalry corps came down 
upon us in three lines of battle, dismounted m front, and 
mounted on both flanks-intending to make a clean sweep 
of the second division of the cavalry corps. 

On that morning I was not well and hardly able to take 

command of my squadron. Surgeon Clark sa,d to ««, C^" 

tain, ni give you an excuse for to-day .f >^u don t feel able 

to go into the fight," but I declined the oflfer and prepared 

mv men for the conflict. We were in a piece of woods and 

the rebels were in plain sight in our front beyond the imber. 

They were busy constructing rude breastworks, as though 

they were expecting an attack by us. Suddenly we saw 

them coming over their dismantled works m *ree hnes o 

battle We opened on them with artillery and small arms 



152 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

which checked them for a moment or two, but their officers 
urged them on, and they were slowly overpowering us by 
their superior numbers. We could hear heavy firing on both 
flanks as soon as they advanced to our front, indicating that 
we were simultaneously attacked on all parts of our line. 
I was on the right of our regiment and was being slowly 
pushed back. I called for support, and Captain Vanderbilt, 
with his squadron (Companies A and L), promptly joined 
us, but the rebels pushed steadily on, outnumbering us three 
to one. We held on till it was almost a hand-to-hand con- 
flict. Our fire was so hot that the rebels were checked for 
a few moments, and we fell back about fifty feet to a fence. 
Then the order came to retire, and I saw the boys on my 
left on the run to the rear. While we were so hard pressed 
I lost sight of Lieutenant Hinckly, who was on the right of 
my squadron in some thick underbrush, and I was anxious 
about him. Crawling along an old log fence I found Lieu- 
tenant John P. White (he was then sergeant) on our ex- 
treme right firing away as fast as he could. Asking him if 
he had seen Hinckly, I lay down by his side for a moment, 
then crawled farther to the right so I could look on the 
right of the bushes, when White jumped up and started for 
the rear, singing out to me, saying, ''Come on Cap., the 
boys have all gone back." "All right," said I, with a glance 
at our battery that still retained its position. I started to- 
wards the battery, nearly exhausted. From a little knoll I 
saw that if I kept on I would be killed by our own guns, and 
started to make a detour to keep out of range, when J 
stumbled and fell near a fence. When I rose, twelve John- 
nies jumped up from behind the fence, and v/ith all their 
guns bearing on me, cried out, "Surrender, you damned 
Yank!" The rebels were from Wickam's Brigade of Vir- 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 153 

ginia Cavalry. I was immediately robbed of everything in 
my pockets, my hat and boots, and would have been stripped 
naked except through the interference of one of the party, 
who ordered me to follow him to the rear. Reaching the 
edge of a piece of woods, under the hottest lire I ever ex- 
perienced, I was ordered to sit down by the side of a lean, 
lank, slab-sided six-footer, who was firing away from behind 
a small tree at our boys as fast as he could. I had no sooner 
placed myself by him than I had the pleasure of seeing him 
shot through the body and fall back dead. Another man 
took charge of me, and I was started for the rear again, con- 
tinually meeting bloodthirsty ragamuffins who wished to put 
an end to my existence by shooting me down like a dog; 
but the remonstrance of my guard prevailed, and I was 
safely conducted to the rear. Never before had I wished for 
death. As I saw the rebels swept down by our shells, grape 
and canister, I wished for some missile to hurl me into eter- 
nity, which I considered preferable to life in a Southern 
prison. After being started on our way to the rear, we were 
constantly meeting rebels advancing, and one of our shells 
burst about four feet above my head and killed four rebels 
outright and wounded four more. Strange it was to me 
that I should be so cool and unconcerned as to my fate 
while I was escorted here and there under a terrible fire 
from our batteries. 

After being marched about, insulted and abused for a 
couple of hours, my feet already swollen and sore, we 
reached the headquarters of Captain Butler, the provost 
marshal of Butler's brigade of South Carolinians. Here I 
found half a dozen of our officers and enlisted men huddled 
together, with a strong guard placed over them. Hungry, 
tired and sleepy, we passed the night. Colonel Huey, of the 



154 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

Eighth Pennsylvania Cavalry, was my bedfellow on a half 
blanket spread on the ground. In the morning we were 
a miserable, dilapidated-looking set of Yanks. Captain But- 
ler said that he had nothing to eat himself, or he would give 
us something. None of us believed him. He seemed very 
much elated by reading to us in one of their seven-by-nine 
newspapers an account of our officers — prisoners of war — 
being placed under fire at Charleston, S. C, by the rebels. 
Early in the morning, June 25th, without a mouthful to eat, 
we were marched to General Butler's headquarters, and the 
general sent one of his aides out for the best hat worn by 
the Yankee officers. The aide could find none suitable for 
his generalship. On our march from Captain Butler's head- 
quarters to General Butler's we passed the field hospital of 
the St. Mary's Church battle, and I saw more dead and 
wounded as we passed than all the men and officers we had 
in our brigade, or rather our two brigades. We learned 
from the rebels that our two brigades had fought the whole 
cavalry corps of Lee's army, consisting of eight brigades. 
They did not capture a single piece of artillery, but our 
losses in dead and prisoners were heavy. It was the only 
time I was with the regiment when it got whipped. 

After collecting all their prisoners together they had one 
hundred and seven enlisted men and officers. Captain But- 
ler remained in charge of us, and we started at once for 
Richmond at a brisk pace. As I was without a hat, I ap- 
pealed to one of the guards, and he found a dilapidated 
specimen, which he gave me, and it served to protect my 
head a little from the burning sun. By ten a.m. the sand 
became so hot that it burned my feet to a blister. One of the 
rebel soldiers got me a pair of old boots, which were a little 
better than none, but did me some service in taking the skin 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 155 

off my feet in a dozen new places. Long before night I was 
unable to walk, and they allowed me to ride a horse for a 
mile or two, then get off and hobble along again, while some 
other prisoner, in as bad a condition, took a ride. We suf- 
fered intolerably for the want of water, being allowed to 
drink only at the streams when we came to them. We were 
marched to Savage Station, on the York River Railroad, 
making twenty-five miles from our starting-point in the 
morning. No sooner had we dropped to the ground than 
all were fast asleep, completely tired out, and famishing for 
want of food and water. In the morning we were promised 
something to eat, but got nothing. They did not give us 
even water we wanted to drink. About ten a.m., the 25th, 
we were placed on board a train and taken to Richmond. 
In less than an hour we were drawn up in line in front of 
Libby prison and marched in, one at a time, and thoroughly 
searched by the notorious Dick Turner. All money and 
everything of value were taken. I managed to preserve my 
pocket knife, which, in some way, was overlooked when I 
was taken. 

A full description of this prison has been given so many 

times that it is needless for me to repeat it. We found 

there about one hundred officers, mostly from the Second 

Corps, and about two thousand four hundred men confined 

there. Having been fifty-four hours without anything to 

eat, we were suffering greatly for want of food. Between 

twelve and one o'clock rations were brought in— bean soup 

in tubs that was hardly fit to put hogs' feed in, and meat 

that emitted an odor almost sickening. My ration consisted 

of a piece of corn bread three inches long by two and a half 

wide, and about the same thickness; a piece of spoiled pork 

half an inch thick and two inches square; one-half gill of 



156 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

bean soup, mostly water, twenty beans in it, perhaps, and 
rotten at that. This dose, I was informed, would be repeated 
each day at the same hour. Starvation began to stare me in 
the face. Our stay at Libby was of only three days' dura- 
tion, but it was long enough to cover us with vermin that 
seemed more hungry, if possible, than ourselves, and with 
which we never parted company while guests of the South- 
ern Confederacy. 

On the 29th of June we were started for Lynchburg, Va., 
which we reached the next day, June 30th, after a most ex- 
hausting ride in cattle cars, with nothing to eat or drink. 
Some of the officers traded their shirts for a small loaf of 
bread. 

About noon, on the day of our arrival at Lynchburg, we 
were much surprised by receiving four days' cooked rations, 
consisting of nearly a pound of bacon and one dozen crack- 
ers, something similar to the hard bread used by our army. 
Lynchburg is situated on the south side of the James River, 
and built mostly on a side hill. At that time it was a vast 
hospital, every building being filled with sick and wounded 
soldiers. During the afternoon we took up our line of 
march across the country for Danville, Va., distant seventy- 
two miles, the Weldon railroad tracks having been torn up 
by our raiders. More prisoners were added to our column, 
swelling our number to one hundred and twenty-five officers 
and twenty-five hundred men. We were marched four or 
five miles and camped — that is, we were allowed to lie on 
the ground and eat our rations. 

What rations we had were of good material, and I ate 
half of mine the first night without being satisfied. Early 
next morning, July ist, we were gathered up like a lot of 
sheep and started on the road. The weather was very hot. 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 157 

and we were allowed to rest only once in three or four miles, 
and then but a few minutes. I think I never suffered on any 
trip as on this. My feet were covered with sores, and the 
bottoms were almost one entire blister, making each step 
but little less than the horrors of the Inquisition. To strag- 
gle in the rear was certain death. All the cavalrymen and 
officers suft'ered incredibly, but the infantry were more used 
to marching, and stood it much better, except those that 
were barefoot. One poor fellow, who was sick, stopped by 
the roadside in an old tobacco house. He was found by the 
rear guard and coolly shot, and his body rifled of everything, 
simply because he could go no further, and the guards 
boasted of the deed. Others met a similar fate each day. 

After marching twenty-five miles we reached the Staun- 
ton River, where we camped as the night before, with the 
privilege of washing in the river, which was a great luxury. 
That night it seem.ed to me impossible that I could march 
another mile, but, with a full determination to endure to 
the end, I summoned all the perseverance, energy and forti- 
tude that I possessed and managed to keep up with the col- 
umn the next day, although illness was added to the fatigue. 
We were a great curiosity to the citizens, scarcely any of 
whom had seen a live Yankee before. Every male above 
ten years of age, and under seventy, was out to help guard 
us with shotguns and pistols, but they seemed to feel dubious 
in regard to their future prospects. Women and children 
composed nine-tenths of the population through the country 
we passed. On Sunday, the 3d, in passing through the little 
village of Spottsylvania Court House, the full congregation 
of one of the churches lined both sides of the street. With 
true Yankee spirit the column sang ''The Star-Spangled 
Banner" in good style, as well as other patriotic songs. I 



158 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

noticed two or three very good-looking young ladies shed- 
ding tears. The whole congregation listened and looked on 
in silence, never having seen so many Yanks before. 

On the 4th of July we arrived at Danville, Va., on the 
Dan River, worn out and half starved, our rations having 
o-iven out the dav before. Upon our arrival at Danville we 
were marched into a miserable, dirty, red-brick building and 
packed so tight that there was not room for all to lie down 
at the same time. The building had been used as a prison 
pen before and never cleaned. The floor was covered with 
vermin, the weather very hot, and the terrible stench arising 
from the debris of former occupants made a gloomy pros- 
pect for the future, as we supposed that we were to stay 
here for some time. In a couple of hours we were greatly 
surprised by being furnished with a tolerably fair meal of 
corn bread and very good boiled fresh pork, which was far 
the best I had received since I was taken prisoner. Near 
the close of the dav we were ordered out of the building and 
marched to the railroad, and allowed to lie on the ground 
until nearly midnight, when we were packed into box cars 
used for transporting cattle and prisoners. Fifty men were 
packed in each car and the doors closed. 

The heat was intense and we came near being suffocated, 
and, not being allowed any water, our sufferings before 
morning were almost intolerable. Some of the boys cut a 
few small holes in the car with their knives to let in a little 
more air, but it was not enough to do any perceptible good. 
In the morning, July 5th, we arrived at Greensboro, S. C, 
where we were taken out to change cars and receive rations. 
The rations were hard bread and bacon, very poor and very 
scanty. After receiving our morsel we were packed as 
before and started south again. Cramped, crowded and 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE t^g 

choking for water, we finally reached Salisbury, N. C, 
where one of the boys was knocked down and kicked by one 
of the guards for speaking to me as he was passing by the 
car. This boy belonged to my regiment. I remonstrated, 
and the guard informed me, as well as the poor boy who 
was so badly abused, that he would shoot us both if we said 
another word. We stopped a short time at this place, and 
before night were unloaded at Charlotte, N. C, and marched 
into an open field and a strong guard placed around us. It 
was certainly a treat to be allowed once more to stretch our- 
selves at full length on mother earth, which, in comparison 
with our previous night's rest, was a great luxury, and we 
fully enjoyed it. The next day was not quite so pleasant, in 
the hot sun, with no shelter, although there was plenty of 
shade a few rods away. The next night was passed on the 
same ground in the same manner. No rations were given 
us, and we were informed that we would receive none until 
we arrived at Columbia, S. C. On the morning of the 7th 
we left Charlotte, packed as before, suffering all day with 
heat, hunger and thirst. 

Early in the evening we reached Columbia, where we were 
allowed the privilege of lying on the ground again in the 
open air, but we received nothing to eat. On the 8th we 
left Columbia for Augusta, Ga., packed in the same manner, 
a cursing, starving, miserable set of beings. No person that 
has never experienced the want of food or water can form 
any adequate idea of the feeling one has to undergo during 
such a trial. It seems a wonder that we lived through the 
day. Late at night we arrived at Augusta, Ga., almost ex- 
hausted. Two or three of the prisoners were carried off 
dying from the effects of our treatment thus far. On the 
morning of the 9th, before leaving Augusta, a miserable 



i6o ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

pittance of food was doled out to us, which we devoured in- 
stantly, but it did not appease our hunger. Here we were 
counted and packed as usual, only worse, fifty-five being in a 
single car. At Augusta I traded my gold pen, that I had 
managed to secrete so far, for a half pound of beef, for I 
was on the verge of starvation. This I ate raw, and no mor- 
sel ever seemed so sweet. This time we were boxed for 
twenty-four hours, or until our arrival at Macon, Ga., where 
we were sorted, and all officers turned into a prison pen 
with fourteen hundred officers who were already confined 
there. 

The enlisted men were taken on to Andersonville, Ga., 
and put in that hell-hole to starve and die. The pen into 
which we were put, like many others of the kind, had a 
picket fence line inside the stockade, which was its dead 
line. Cannon were mounted on each side, with a comple- 
ment of guards ready to shoot down any unsuspecting pris- 
oner that might even touch the picket fence. This fence, 
before the war, enclosed the fair grounds belonging to the 
city of Macon, and the buildings were now used for a pris- 
oner's hospital. Lumber had been furnished for making 
sheds for about two-thirds of the prisoners. The water in 
the pen was abundant, and very good for that country. On 
our arrival the cry of 'Tresh fish !" "Fresh fish !" greeted 
our ears, which was the usual cry when any new prisoners 
were brought in. The prisoners crowded about us, asking 
about the war and the news, and a thousand and one ques- 
tions about "God's country," as they called the North. Lieu- 
tenant Johnson and Captain Getman, of my regiment, took 
charge of me at once. I found, also, several officers of the 
Seventy-sixth New York Infantry and the One Hundred 
and Fifty-seventh New York Infantry, taken at different 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE i6i 

battles, and with whom I was well acquainted. They were 
all glad to see me, though sorry that I was a prisoner. It 
was a source of comfort to find them well, if not happy. 

I learned from the boys that our rations for five days 
were five pints of an inferior quality of cornmeal ; between 
one and three fourths of a pound of rancid bacon, full of 
maggots, and many times almost rotten; one tablespoonful 
of rice; a gill of beans, or what they called cow peas; a 
tablespoonful of salt, and a half-pint of sorghum molasses. 
This completed our full ration for five days, with the ex- 
ception of a very small piece of soap, enough, perhaps, to 
wash a pair of socks. These rations were just enough to 
keep a man constantly hungry, and yet not quite enough to 
starve him to death. Our occupation was "skirmishing," 
or, in other words, hunting lice, cooking, playing cards, 
chess, etc., talking of exchange and something good to eat. 
Our camp was full of rumors all the while, and a fight now 
and then enlivened the monotony of this miserable life. 

Every means of escape was devised and many tried. One 
officer managed to make his gray blankets into a suit of rebel 
clothes and walked out with a load of garbage that was being 
carted out. With the consent of the negro driver, another 
crawled under a large box that was on the prison sutler's 
wagon as he was driving out ; but this man, after traveling 
for some days, was caught with dogs and brought back 
again. Many tunnels were started, but were discovered. 

We had preaching every Sunday, and sometimes two or 
three times a week; also prayer meetings; but I heard no 
temperance lectures. A few debates were started, but de- 
baters were generally too hungry to get up a good argument, 
and debating was banished. I suft'ered intolerably with diar- 
rhoea all the while and became very weak ; in fact, the dis- 



i62 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

ease had become chronic with me, but I kept out of the hos^ 
pital. Sickness prevailed to a considerable extent. 

Time wore away slowly. Sick, sad, half-starved, and in- 
fested with vermin, which it was impossible to keep entirely 
clear of, we were startled by an order to pack up and get 
ready to move. On the 30th of July we were put on board 
a train for Charleston, S. C. There were about three hun- 
hundred of us. Before the train started, however, it was 
learned that our raiders, under General Stoneman, had cut 
the road about fifteen miles from Macon, and we were taken 
off and put in the stockade again. Soon after we heard the 
sound of cannon, which came nearer and nearer as the day 
advanced, until our boys sent the shells whizzing into the 
suburbs of the town, about eighty rods from our prison. 
There was not an unhappy countenance in that prison when 
the sound of Yankee cannon promised deliverance. But, 
alas ! when next morning dawned the firing had ceased, and 
during the day we were informed by the guards that the 
Yankees were all taken prisoners, which was partly verified 
by the appearance of General Stoneman and staff in the 
prison stockade. Soon after arriving in prison the general 
sat down on an old log and told us all about it, while the tears 
rolled down his cheeks, so chagrined was he at his failure 
to release us from our loathsome condition. I learned after- 
wards that the rebel cannon were double-shotted, and the 
gunners ordered to fire upon us in the stockade if there was 
any likelihood of our being released. There are not words 
in the English language strong enough to express the hellish 
fiendishness of our rebel hosts who would murder a lot of 
starving, unarmed prisoners of war. 

Our next news was that fifty ofificers had been exchanged 
at Charleston, S. C, and that we would be soon after we 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 163 

arrived there. This rumor, no doubt, was started by the 
rebels to keep us from trying to escape en route. On the 
morning of August nth we were marched to the train 
again. I was hardly able to carry my baggage, what little 
I had, yet hope and a determination to survive under any 
and all circumstances buoyed me up, and I was more cheer- 
ful than would be supposed. 

While in Macon I had seen strong young men, who were 
brought to the prison presenting a perfect picture of health, 
by brooding over their condition lose all their will power, 
give up, and lie down and die inside of forty-eight hours, 
with no sign of disease about them. I determined not to 
give up, therefore, unless I was obliged to, and my will 
conquered. 

We were packed as usual on cattle trains — ^the most filthy 
they could find, it seemed— and started for Augusta, Ga., 
where we arrived on the morning of the 12th. Here we 
were unloaded and repacked on board a train destined for 
Charleston, and arrived there on the morning of the 13th 
at daylight. We were marched down to the lower part of 
town, which was nearly destitute of people, on account of 
General Foster's shelling that portion of the city, and placed 
in a large building near the jail, previously used as a negro 
workhouse. There were six hundred of us in the building 
and the Marine Hospital. I was put into the workhouse, 
where we were crowded almost to sufifocation. There was 
a small back yard, where we got our water from two cisterns. 
The water was miserable stuff and brackish. Frequently 
the demand exceeded the supply, and no one could get a 
drink for twenty-four hours, except he had money to pay one 
of the guards at the door— a dollar in Confederate money for 
a single bucketful. 



i64 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

I shall never forget the first night of our stay in this mis- 
erable prison. These six hundred officers were placed under 
our fire to save the city of Charleston. About ten o'clock 
P.M. our guns on Morris Island opened on the city, and the 
one and two hundred pound shells made night hideous. It 
was impossible to sleep while these missiles were crashing 
through the buildings around us every five minutes. With 
a shudder, as they went screeching and screaming through 
the air in close proximity to us, we asked ourselves, "What 
would be the next terror added to our loathsome prison 
life?" After a few days and nights the novelty of this con- 
stant shelling wore off, and it did not disturb us except when 
a shell came very close. They were fired with much regu- 
larity, every five minutes, night and day. 

One piece of shell struck on the roof of our prison, but, 
its force being nearly spent, did no serious harm. Another 
struck at the door to the yard, and one in front of the build- 
ing, but no one was hurt. Our gunners, being posted as to 
our locality, sent their shells to the right and left of us, as 
well as over us. 

For the first time since I had been a prisoner we were al- 
lowed to write letters, and a few papers were allowed to 
come into the prison. I improved the opportunity of writing 
as often as I could get a scrap of paper, which was not often. 
W^e were allowed to write but one page, and the contents 
were subjected to a rigid examination by the rebel authori- 
ties. Our rations were much better than they were at 
Macon, but too scanty to fully appease hunger for the time 
they were issued, and every day they were cut short. 

Notwithstanding our bad treatment, my strength increased 
a little, and I felt better than I had for two months, but I 
felt the hunger most keenly. Once, about the first of Sep- 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 165 

tember, I was obliged to go without anything to eat for 
three days and nights. Had it not been for Captain Mead, 
of a New York regiment, who was sick and gave me a part, 
of his rations, I should have suffered terribly. About this 
time the yellow fever broke out in the city, which was an- 
other misery added to our deplorable condition. A number 
of cases were reported among the prisoners. Guards that 
were well in the morning were dead before night. Fifty 
new cases in the city were reported each day for some time. 
There were but two cases in our prison, one of which was 
Homer Call, of the Seventy-sixth New York regiment. 

Just before the fever broke out a large number of pris- 
oners were brought to Charleston on their way to Florence, 
S. C, from Andersonville and placed in the jail yard ad-, 
joining our building. To give a description of this body of 
men is an impossibility. It was the most horrible sight I 
ever saw. They were dirty, half-naked, and some so emaci- 
ated that their bones were sticking through their clothes. 
Their treatment at Andersonville had rendered them almost 
void of reason, and they thought of nothing but something 
to eat. The morning after they were brought there I saw 
one poor fellow lying on the ground, half-naked, and dead, 
with his mouth full of dry meal, and his hand resting on his 
chin, full of meal, showing that when he breathed his last 
he was trying to satisfy his dreadful craving for food. At 
the time I did not look upon this scene with any great degree 
of astonishment, but took it as a matter of course, wondering 
how long it would be before my turn would come in the same 
manner. During the day this man's body was thrown into 
a cart, as one would throw in a dead dog, and carried off. 
This was only one instance of hundreds. The next day 
these prisoners were moved to Florence, S. C, a prison but 



i66 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

little behind Andersonville in brutality. The inhuman treat- 
ment of our prisoners will ever remain a blot on the history 
of the Southern Confederacy. 

By the first of October the yellow fever was raging 
throughout the city, though, strange to say, it did not trouble 
us to any great extent ; but the inhabitants wished us moved, 
for fear we would cause it to spread. Among all the pris- 
oners, there were but forty-two cases, of which forty died 
and two got well. Homer Call, of the Seventy-sixth New 
York Regiment, was one of the two that recovered. On the 
5th of October rations of raw beef were issued to us, and 
we were ordered to be ready to move at once. We were 
formed in line in front of our prison and the jail, and as 
soon as possible started on the road up King Street. Charles- 
ton never saw such a sight before or since. Our clothes 
were in rags, barely covering our nakedness, and about half 
were bareheaded. In the procession were officers of all 
grades, from generals to second lieutenants, some hardly 
able to walk, every man in the line — about three hundred 
in all — gnawing intently at his piece of raw beef as he 
crawled along the street. 

At length we reached the cars and were crowded aboard 
in the usual manner and started for Columbia, S. C, arriv- 
ing there on the morning of the 6th. A few of the prisoners 
who were able to travel escaped from the cars, but whether 
they ever reached our lines I know not. As no word had 
been sent (purposely, I suppose) of our coming, no prepara- 
tion had been made for us. We were marched into an open 
field with just enough room to lie down. A strong guard 
of Columbia Cadets were placed over us, and one of them 
displayed his chivalry and thirst for Yankee blood by run- 
ning his bayonet into a prisoner because unknowingly he 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 167 

got over the established limits of the camp. During the 
night a drenching rain-storm set in, and a great portion of 
the ground was covered with water three inches deep. Many 
of the men, not being able to stand up, wallowed in the mud 
and water all night. Prisoners from other places had been 
brought in, so there were fifteen hundred of us altogether. 
This was a slight introduction to our subsequent treatment. 
The most of us had had nothing to eat for twenty-four 
hours. On the morning of the 9th of October we presented 
a horrible appearance — wet, hungry, and covered with mud ; 
some were unable to move, and I think several died. One 
cake of hard bread was delivered to each man, and in the 
course of the day we were marched about two miles from 
the city into an open field, a strong guard placed around 
us, and for twenty-four hours were not allowed to have 
water, although a clear stream of running water was only 
twenty rods away. This camp was subsequently named 
**Camp Sorghum." Turned into an open field, without shel- 
ter, wood or water, or anything to eat, the prospect for long 
life and happiness looked gloomy indeed. Just at night we 
received a miserable pittance of cornmeal, a little flour, salt 
and sorghum molasses. The weather had cleared off that 
day, and it was a very cold night for that country so early 
in the season. It was simply an impossibility to keep warm. 
I was only thinly clad, my clothes being nearly worn out. 

Time passed slowly. We got no letters, and no recently 
captured prisoners were sent to our camp — in fact, none 
since we left Macon, Ga. — so that we were practically cut 
off from the outside world. Nothing occurred worthy of 
note for several days, when a captain of the Nineteenth 
Pennsylvania Volunteers was taken with the yellow fever 
and died. This was the first case among us since we left 



i68 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

Charleston. One more only died with the disease, when it 
disappeared altogether. 

Five axes were furnished for fifteen hundred men to cut 
wood, and each day we were allowed to go out into the 
woods near by to get fuel, with a strong guard thrown 
around us. Only one hour at this business was allowed to 
each, and we took good care to improve it. Many prisoners 
escaped by hiding away until night, when they would strike 
out for our lines on the coast, or in Tennessee. The dis- 
tance to the former was two hundred miles, and over the 
mountains to Tennessee three hundred miles. This was 
quite an undertaking, and but few ever got through. Many 
were caught the next day after leaving camp, while some 
were out for weeks, caught by dogs, and returned again by 
citizens. A number of officers were shot trying to run the 
guard at night, and we were in as much danger inside the 
camp as those who endeavored to escape. It was a common 
thing for a musket-ball to come whistling over our heads, 
and sometimes uncomfortably close, during the night. So 
we were not sure when we stretched ourselves on the ground 
at night of being alive in the morning. Lieutenant Young, 
of the Fourth Pennsylvania Cavalry, taken prisoner the 
same time I was, was shot and killed while sitting quietly by 
a little fire one evening with a party of others by one of the 
guards shooting at a man who was trying to escape. A 
number were wounded in the same manner at different times. 

Our rations were being reduced at every issue, and we re- 
ceived no meat of any kind, or a particle of fat or grease. 
For twenty days we had been favored very much by not 
having any storms. On the 27th of October a heavy rain 
set in, and found us without any shelter whatever, except a 
little pine brush, which the rain ran through as through a 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 169 

sieve. In the mud and water we wallowed like so many 
swine, drying when the sun shone out, and ''skirmishing" 
generally every day. We were suffering fearfully for the 
want of better food and more of it. Our condition seemed 
almost unbearable, yet we managed to live, but with a dis- 
couraging prospect of ever being relieved from our terrible 
situation. So desperate had I become for food that I tried 
digging grass roots and eating them. The bulbs were bitter, 
but they stopped my gnawing hunger a little. 

One day, while pulling the roots, I saw a scale of gold, 
and immediately got the half of a canteen and carefully gath- 
ered it full of dirt and took it to the little stream of water 
and washed it out. I had several ''colors," and by going 
down a little I got a fair prospect that would have paid if 
worked properly. I washed until I had about fifty cents' 
worth of fine dust, which I preserved in a quill and took 
home with me. The Columbia papers had a glowing ac- 
count of gold being discovered by the Yankee prisoners. 
Many of them, mostly old Californians, were prospecting 
every day, but found very little, though one could get the 
*'color" almost anywhere in the camp. 

Every way that could be thought of was tried to effect an 
escape, and many were successful. I had nothing to wear 
on my feet, and it would have been useless to attempt it with- 
out boots or shoes. About this time an order was posted 
up about the camp that all officers must give their parole 
not to attempt to escape, or they would be confined in a pen 
and treated the same as enlisted men. This order was 
signed by General Hardee, formerly of the United States 
Army. The order did not amount to anything and was 
hooted at by the prisoners. 

About this time a large, razor-back hog, of the male gen- 



I70 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

der, strolled Into camp, and no sooner got inside than hun- 
dreds of men were after him with sticks, clubs, axes, etc. 
After a short but close siege he had to succumb, and was 
cut up in the twinkling of an eye. By hard work I got a 
small piece of his hide, from which I managed to get a little 
grease that was decidedly delicious, though it smelled to 
heaven and was strong enough to carry double. 

On election day in November, when Abraham Lincoln 
ran against McClellan, we had an election among the pris- 
oners, which was encouraged by the rebel authorities, who 
furnished paper for poll lists, etc. The result of over eleven 
hundred votes cast was a little over a thousand for Lincoln 
and less than a hundred for McClellan. This was very dis- 
appointing to rebeldom, and rations were accordingly made 
smaller. On the 19th of November, Major Wauza, of the 
Twenty-fourth New York Cavalry, had a pair of new shoes 
sent him, and gave me his old ones, which I patched up as 
well as I could, determined to effect my escape, if possible. 

On the night of the 20th, which was dark and rainy, a 
party of six, myself included, tried to escape, but the guards 
caught us at it and fired on us, after we had crawled about 
fifteen rods in the mud and water. It continued to rain the 
next day, but we found no chance to escape. On the 24th 
of November (Thanksgiving Day) Lieutenant Myers, of the 
Seventy-sixth New York Volunteers, and myself concluded 
to escape, if possible, while we were out after wood. We 
induced the sergeant to send a guard with us outside the 
lines after a log that we pretended two men were after, and 
we wished to help them in with it. A captain by the name 
of Schofield went with us, having prevailed on the sergeant 
to let him go. After we had gone far enough in the woods 
to get out of sight of camp we concluded we could not find 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 171 

the two men we were looking for, and proposed going back, 
but Schofield did not wish to. Myers and I started back, 
leaving Schofield and the guard arguing the case about 
going farther on. As soon as we were out of sight of the 
guard and Schofield we skulked through the bushes and 
made good our escape. After running for some distance we 
came to the road that led from Columbia to Lexington, and 
came near meeting a wagon with an old man and an old 
woman in it. We dropped behind some bushes and escaped 
their notice. As soon as they had passed we crossed the 
road in quest of a more secure position. Hearing another 
wagon coming, we crawled under some thick bushes. We 
soon learned that our position was between two roads, and 
people were almost constantly passing. Fearing to move, 
we lay flat on the ground in almost breathless silence, while 
people passed to and fro not more than a hundred feet each 
side of us. We kept our position, though almost frozen, as 
it was very cold, until nine o'clock at night, when we got 
up and took the road to Lexington, as we supposed, intend- 
ing to join Sherman's army as soon as possible, as he w^as 
at that time in Milledgeville, Ga., and we supposed that he 
would be in Augusta, Ga., by the time we could get there. 
We had not traveled far before we found that we were on 
the wrong road, as we very suddenly brought up at a cross- 
ing of the Saluxa River. 

Knowing that we had to follow that stream up some dis- 
tance, we turned back^ and in an hour or so were on the 
right track. Not being used to marching, we were soon 
very much fatigued, and were obliged to rest often. About 
midnight we passed two escaped prisoners, who had heard 
us coming and skulked. Soon after we heard them coming, 
and skulked in the same manner. It was very dark^ and 



172 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

they came very near us. Although they conversed in a 
whisper, we learned by their conversation that they were 
escaped prisoners, and then made ourselves known to them 
and traveled on together, every mile or less flanking team- 
sters or picket camp-fires. We had not gone far before we 
came across two more escaped prisoners, who joined us. 
All had escaped the same day, but in different ways. Lex- 
ington is a small village, twelve miles from Columbia. We 
pushed on as fast as possible, to enable us to flank it before 
daylight, which we did successfully, and traveled three miles 
beyond. Just as it was getting daylight, Myers and I turned 
off the road into a swamp for the day, nearly used up. 

This was the first day of our escape, and we enjoyed our 
freedom very much. During the day we slept and mended 
our clothes. I had a needle and Myers had some thread. 
The day being warm and pleasant, we rested very quietly, 
without being disturbed. At night we started for the road 
again. Our provisions were all gone, as we ate the last we 
had in the morning. About nine p.m. we reached the road, 
and left our companions of the previous night, believing it 
to be more safe. The country through which we passed was 
thickly settled for that State, and we had to be very careful, 
for to be seen was about the same as to be caught, for as 
soon as any of the citizens saw a Yankee they would gather 
their pack of dogs and put them on his track and hunt him 
down as they would a deer. Nothing transpired during the 
first part of the night, except tearing our clothes on the 
bushes as we stumbled along in the darkness. 

About midnight we got very hungry, and Myers began 
to express fears that we would starve did we not get some- 
thing to eat very soon. He began to be reckless, and I 
feared he would get us recaptured. About 2 p.m. we passed 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 173 

a house where no dog came yelping out, and we examined 
all the barns and outhouses in search of something to eat. 
Myers fortunately secured two half-grown chickens. We 
traveled on with lighter steps and spirits, not having tasted 
meat for two months, except the hog before mentioned. In 
a short time we came to a dense piece of woods, and, turning 
off the road a short distance, built a fire of pine cones, took 
the entrails out of the chickens which we roasted, feath- 
ers and all. It took but a short time to devour them, and 
we were on our way again, very much refreshed. It was 
getting near morning, when we heard the chickens crowing 
ahead of us, and we pushed on till we came to a house. By 
careful manoeuvering and much crawling we found the 
chicken-house built close against the side of the dwelling, 
and only a square hole, a foot each way, about three feet 
from the ground, where we could make an entrance. It was 
a ticklish job, and the hole was not large enough for Myers 
to get through, so I had to crawl in. I managed to secure 
three fine roosters, without disturbing the owners. We got 
away all right, and, it being almost morning, we turned off 
the road into the woods and lay down to sleep. 

When it came daylight we found ourselves in a very ex- 
posed position, and, while looking about for a more secure 
place, three large dogs came howling towards us from the 
direction of the house where we took the chickens. We 
thought it certain that we should be caught; we lay down 
on the ground between two knolls and kept as quiet as pos- 
sible, expecting every moment that some person would make 
his appearance. But after barking at us for half an hour 
the dogs left, and in a short time we heard a shot off to our 
right, a long distance away. We started at a brisk pace for 
a large swamp about a mile away, where we got into the 



174 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

most dismal and secluded spot we could find, and camped 
for the day. I might mention here that we started with 
eighteen matches in a waterproof box, and a small bag of 
salt, which was worth everything to us. We built a small 
fire and commenced cooking our chickens by roasting a 
piece at a time on the coals until they were all cooked. With 
the gizzards and hearts we made a soup in a tin pint cup (the 
only dish that we had with us) and ate our fill. This was 
the first time since I had been a prisoner that I had had 
enough to eat. What we had left we carefully packed in 
our haversacks for future use. 

After eating we slept till near dark. We were now in 
most excellent spirits on account of our good success thus 
far. Although footsore and stiff, we did not feel like com- 
plaining, and soon after dark were on our way to the road 
again. By the aid of the stars we soon reached the road, 
and lay down behind a fence, fearing to travel much before 
nine o'clock. The moon was new, and set at about ten 
o'clock, making the night dark, which was more favorable 
to us. At the first house we came to after starting on the 
road we nearly met a man who had come out to chop some 
wood. We dropped flat on the ground at the side of the 
road until he returned, and then passed the house unnoticed. 
We considered this a fortunate escape. 

This was our third night out, and we hoped to make a. 
good long march. After going a short distance we met 
more people, but escaped their notice by hugging the ground. 
At length we came to a negro's cabin, a short distance from 
the road, and not more than twenty rods from the master's 
house. As we were very anxious to get some bread, I con- 
cluded to try to get some, while Myers lay behind a stone 
fence to await results. Just as I was passing around the 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 175 

corner of the shanty a large dog came bounding out to meet 
me, and whoever was inside hissed him on. I ran as fast 
as I could back to Myers, with the dog close up ; but Myers 
commenced stoning him, and we drove him to a respectful 
distance from us. The noise brought the old lady of the 
house to the door, and she sang out to the darky to know 
what the matter was. The dog continued to bark, but we 
crawled off into the woods on the opposite side of the road 
and lay still until everything was quiet. We then resumed 
our journey. Before we had gone far we got very tired and 
hungry, but allowed ourselves only a small portion of our 
chicken, as we wished to make it last as long as possible. 
During the night we heard some geese off to our right, some 
distance from the road, and knew there must be a plantation 
near. Myers thought that he had better go and see what 
he could do, while I stayed behind the fence near the road. 
He started, and I waited in vain for an hour or more, and 
began to think that he had been captured. At length he 
came back, with no goose. It appears he reached a negro 
shanty, and was about to knock at the door, when he thought 
he would peep through a crack, when, behold ! there was a 
rebel soldier sitting by the fire. After making this discov- 
ery he made tracks back as fast as possible. On we went, 
and in trying unsuccessfully to secure some chickens at a 
house came near being discovered. 

From this time until we camped our course was through 
a wilderness. Long before day, nearly tired out and nearly 
famished for want of water, we turned into the woods and 
lay down and went to sleep. At daylight, finding ourselves 
in a secure place, we slept until nearly noon, when we 
awoke, suffering with thirst and hunger. Our chickens 
were all devoured, but we must have water. After looking 



176 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

a long time for water, without success, we gave it up, and 
concluded we would have to wait until night. As it was 
Sunday, we dare not venture to travel on the road, for the 
Southern people seem to travel more on that day than any 
other. In looking about for water we found some whortle- 
berries and made a very good meal of them. Just at night 
we placed ourselves near the road, behind a log, and watched 
for negroes to pass, so that we could hail them and find 
out where we could get something to eat. We did not watch 
long before two came along, and we learned from them that 
Sherman was very near Augusta, and that we were on the 
wrong road, but not so dangerous as the right one. They 
directed us to a place where the darkies were friendly, and 
knew that we could get all we wanted to eat. These two 
young darkies were not as friendly as we expected, and, as 
they were the first ones met since our escape, we were a little 
suspicious. As soon as we thought it late enough we were 
on the way again. This was our fourth night out. 

After traveling a few miles we came to water. We had 
been without it nearly twenty-four hours. About midnight 
we got to the plantation where we were to get something 
to eat, but the dogs made so much noise on our approach 
that we could not get near the negro quarters; but coming 
across a flock of geese in the road, we drove them on before 
us for some distance, and after a hard chase each caught 
one. After an hour or two our road came to an end and 
we had to turn back. By the time we got back to where 
we had captured the geese it was almost daylight. We 
turned into the woods and, with our geese for pillows, went 
to sleep. At the break of day an old hound came near and 
commenced barking at us. The house was in plain sight, 
and we thought certain that we should be discovered; but 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 177 

one of the darkies at the house called to the dog and he left 
us, and we started to find a better place where we could 
build a fire and cook our geese. In a little, narrow swamp 
on the headwaters of the North Edisto River we camped, 
then picked, cooked and ate the geese in the same manner 
as we did the chickens. After eating, we lay down to sleep, 
and about the middle of the afternoon were awakened by 
the report of a gun a few rods off. In breathless silence we 
awaited our doom. Dogs came within a few feet, but took 
no notice of us. During the conversation, which we could 
hear plainly, we learned that some man was out hunting 
squirrels with a pack of dogs and a number of children. 
Our only course was to keep as still as possible and take the 
chances. 

As soon as we thought it safe, we crawled, as still as pos- 
sible, in the opposite direction from the hunter and his dogs, 
but, instead of getting away from him, came very near meet- 
ing him, for while we were crawling off he had turned in a 
similar direction. We had got to a place clear of bushes 
when we saw him coming towards us. There was no show 
but to lie fiat on the ground and await the result. One of 
his dogs came near us, gave a yelp or two, and went on, 
which was a great relief to us. A tall, gaunt-looking reb., 
with one of our overcoats on, came leisurely along, with his 
gun on his shoulder, and two or three little negroes behind 
him with a couple of squirrels. He was looking intently on 
the ground as he walked within a few feet of us. He had 
but to turn his head or eyes to discover better game than he 
had found that day. We breathed easier after he had 
passed, and soon secreted ourselves in a more secure place, 
thanking Heaven that we were still free American citizens, 
although on enemies' ground. 



178 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

This was November 28th, and we had been out four 
nights. About nine p.m. we started out with a bright moon 
to guide us. The night before, when we were trying to 
catch our geese, I fell over a small stump and hurt my right 
leg badly. It was swollen and pained me very much to 
travel ; otherwise we were in good spirits, for we had meat 
enough to last through the night comfortably. Myers had 
an appetite like a wolf, and never seemed to be satisfied and 
always wanted more. My appetite was not poor by any 
means, but I could control it better. From our map — a 
mere sketch from one of Loyd's maps on a half sheet of note 
paper, but very useful in giving us the right direction to 
travel, we learned that we were on the North Edisto River, 
and our best course was to follow it down. We followed a 
kind of by-road through swamp and deep gullies. It was a 
very hard march for me with my injured leg. At length the 
moon went down, and we brought up at the edge of a 
swamp, with water three feet deep at every point that we 
could find. After looking and feeling about for an hour, 
we found a kind of foot bridge, consisting of single logs, 
strung along, resting on the forks of small trees driven into 
the ground. These logs or poles were about six inches 
through, and occasionally a rail answered the purpose, and 
were placed about a foot above the water. On these, 
with the aid of our canes, we managed to cross a swamp a. 
mile wide, I should think. About every eight or ten rods 
one or the other of us would slip off into the water and 
mud, about waist deep. After reaching dry land we lay 
down to rest and were soon fast asleep. 

I was nearly worn out, and to make a bad matter worse, 
when we awoke could find no road, and it had become so 
cloudy that no stars were visible. We took the right direc- 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 179 

tion as near as we could guess, and wandered about until 
nearly day when we lay down in the woods and went to sleep 
again. When we awoke it was daylight. We soon secured 
a safe place in a thick piece of woods, and I built a fire 
while Myers went to the nearest plantation to find a darky, 
and get something to eat, as well as to learn our location. 
I was so lame that it was hard for me to move, and, be- 
sides, I had taken a severe cold. A drizzling rain had set in, 
which made me still more uncomfortable. Myers' trip was 
successful. He found a darky, whose name was Dick Grant, 
and by considerable strategy on Dick's part, he furnished 
Myers with some biscuit and sweet potatoes, as well as a 
small piece of bacon, and told him we were in a safe place. 
If we could stay where we were, Dick promised to come to 
us after dark, and bring us more food and also put us on the 
right road to Augusta, Ga., via Aiken, S. C. He said that 
Sherman was but a short distance from Augusta when last 
heard from. 

Although it was rainy, and I was completely wet through', 
I slept soundly nearly all day. Myers said that he had per- 
fect confidence in Dick from his manner and sincere delight 
in being able to help a Yankee. At night I was feeling much 
better, especially my leg. About eight p.m., according to 
promise, Dick made his appearance with a good supper for 
us, an extra piece of bacon and a small bag of sweet pota- 
toes. We were the first Yankees Dick had ever seen, and I 
think I never saw a human being so well pleased as he was 
in having a chance to do something for a Yankee soldier. 
*'Why," said he, "you is jus' like anybody, only a great d'eal 
better." He traveled with us five miles, and put us on the 
right road to Aiken with full instructions about water, the 
inhabitants, and where to be more cautious, "for," said he, 



i8o ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

"should one of dose fellers get hoi' of you Yankees, dey 
hung ye on de fust tree, shua." Wishing us a safe journey, 
with "God bless you," Dick bade us good night, and we went 
on our way rejoicing. This was our sixth night out. Being 
better fed than we had been for six months, we were in hopes 
of reaching Augusta in a couple of nights more. During the 
night the dogs annoyed us very much at almost every house 
we came to, but we made the South Edisto River, and 
crossed it an hour before day, but were obliged to stop, as 
we heard teams coming on the road behind us. Only a short 
distance from the road, in a very thick swamp, we camped 
for the day, but feared to build a fire, as we could hear 
people talk as they passed. We learned from their conver- 
sation that Sherman had passed Augusta. I might remark 
here that we always carried on our conversation in a whis- 
per, both day and night, for fear that we might be heard, 
and I think up to this time we had not spoken a dozen loud 
words since we escaped. 

The way we camped in a swamp that was covered with 
water was this : We selected a thick clump of underbrush, 
and while one of us bent a small three over, the other par- 
tially cut it a foot or so above the water, then bent another 
until the tops would hold us up out of the water, when we 
would lie down and sleep upon them. Just at night we heard 
a negro who was driving a team, stop in the edge of the 
woods near us, make a fire and prepare to camp in the man- 
ner that most teamsters do in that country when on the road 
to and from market. As soon as it was late enough to ven- 
ture forth we determined to make this teamster a visit and 
ascertain if he could confirm the news we had heard during 
the day. As he came from the direction of Aiken, we 
thought he might know something about it. Consequently 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE i8i 

between eight and nine o'clock we emerged from the thicket, 
and approached very cautiously. He was lying stretched out 
full length, fast asleep, in front of a large fire, I got near 
enough to punch him with my cane, and he bounded to his 
feet instantly, nearly scared to death. I asked him if he 
knew me, and he said, "No, but you look like some of dem 
Yankee prisoners dey had in Aiken." I told him I was a 
Yankee, and he seemed delighted, and offered me a piece of 
plug tobacco at once. I asked him for something to eat, 
and he said he had nothing, but would go to a house nearby 
and get something for us. We awaited his return, skulking 
in the bushes some distance from where he left us, but he 
did not betray us, and came back again with a dish of sweet 
potatoes and bacon which we relished very much. He said 
his name was Bill, and seemed somewhat stupid, but was 
loyal to a Yankee soldier. ; 

Getting all the information we could, and finding the news 
of Sherman confirmed, we bid our dusky friend good-bye 
and started on our seventh night's journey. We were eight 
miles from Aiken. Bill had cautioned us to be very careful 
in passing this village, for there were rebel soldiers there, 
and "'twas a mighty bad place." We made but slow pro- 
gress the fore part of the night, for our feet were very sore 
and chafed. The sand was deep, and our shoes, being full 
of holes, made it painful and tiresome work, but we had 
enough to eat. The eight miles were very long ones, and 
it seemed as though we never would reach our destination. 
During the night we generally took a rest every two or three 
miles, and sometimes both would fall asleep. To guard 
against surprise, while resting, we generally left the road 
and got behind a clump of bushes or a fence. Before we 
>vere aware pf it, in going through ^ yery fine grove, w^ 



i82 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

found ourselves in the center of the village of Aiken, South 
Carolina. 

It was between two and three in the morning, and 
we passed through the main street and crossed the Augusta 
and Charleston Railroad without seeing a picket guard, or 
any living being. After passing the town we took the first 
road we came to that, according to the stars, led in the right 
direction. Having had no water for several hours, we be- 
came very thirsty, but there was no water except at the 
houses. At every house was an old-fashioned well-sweep 
with an iron-bound bucket, close to the house, and when we 
tried to lower the bucket, the sweep would creak loud enough 
to wake the dead, so we went with our thirst unquenched 
for fear of being discovered. 

We traveled on until nearly daylight, and found no water 
or a good place to hide ourselves for the day. Just at day- 
break we turned into an open piece of woods, and lying 
down between two large fallen trees were soon asleep. The 
face of the country was a little rolling and very sandy, with 
no streams. From our position we could see half a mile 
each way, and hear roosters crowing in every direction. 
We built a small fire and roasted our potatoes, but they were 
very dry, and added to our thirst. Here we lay all day, 
almost famished for want of water. To be deprived of water 
is much worse than to be deprived of food. Words cannot 
describe our sufferings. It was very warm, and our tongues 
were swollen so we could not speak, and it seemed as though 
we would go mad. It was a terrible day, and I shall never 
forget it. As soon as it was dark we started out in quest 
of water, but found none, nor did we find any till near mid- 
night, suffering almost intolerably until that time. 
. It was on the eighth night when we reached a small 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 183 

stream. I was careful to drink but little at first, and cau- 
tioned Myers to do the same, but he wouldn't stop until I 
forced him away. He seemed to be dazed, and determined 
to drink more. I finally coaxed him to move on with me, 
but had to hold him up, and he began to suffer intensely be- 
fore we had gone a hundred feet, and finally dropped by the 
roadside wholly unconscious. I dragged him to an old log 
near by, and rolled him over it for an hour before he revived. 
For a while I thought he would die, but after suffering much 
pain for an hour or two, he was able to walk a little and 
finally recovered, but was very weak. Aside from this, the 
night was a very quiet one with us, and we passed no houses. 
We turned oft' from, the road into the woods and kept on our 
way until nearly ten a.m. the next day, when we ate the 
balance of our food, and lay down for rest and sleep. We 
seemed to be in a vast wilderness, or rather on the edge of 
one, with no signs of human habitations, and for the first 
time we talked aloud. Ever since we had been out I had 
suffered with a bad cough that troubled me exceedingly, for 
I had to suppress it at all times, for fear it might betray 
us. 

It was now the 2d day of December, and we had been out 
eight nights. We awoke about noon, and from our hiding 
place we saw, about a mile off across the field, a negro at 
work, and, being out of provisions, concluded to call on him. 
By a circuitous route through the woods, we got near three 
darkies at work. It being out of sight of any house, we 
decided to approach them. Myers crawled along an old 
fence while I watched in the woods. It was some time be- 
fore he could induce them to come near him, for they 
thought he was a Yankee on account of his clothes being 
different from any they had ever seen before. Myers finally^ 



l84 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

coaxed one of them to come up to the woods where I was, 
but he was very timid, as the rebels had told the colored 
people everywhere that the Yankees would cut off their ears, 
fingers and toes, and otherwise mutilate them. 

This darky's name was John, and he was the most intelli- 
gent one we had seen. Finding that we would not hurt him, 
he promised to bring us something to eat and some water, 
for water was still scarce. John and the others went to din- 
ner, and came back about two p.m. with a well-cooked meal 
for us, consisting of corn bread, fresh pork and sweet pota- 
toes, and his companions came with him. They all promised 
secrecy, and John agreed to bring us some supper after dark. 
When darkness came on, John came also with the supper, 
and some food to take with us. Myers gave him a small 
testament that he had in his pocket, and he was perfectly 
delighted. He knew that Lincoln was elected President and 
what the war was for. He could read and write, and said 
that he read his Bible, and the news of the day, and that he 
learned it all by torchlight secretly, unknown to his master. 
We were the only white people he had ever conversed with 
freely upon all subjects, he said. He gave us full directions, 
what road to take, and said that Sherman had passed Au- 
gusta, but had not yet crossed the Savannah River. About 
nine r.M. we left him. 

Lame, tired, and almost worn out, we traveled on, fear- 
ing we would not be able to cross the Savannah River, and 
join Sherman's army. We were some days behind him, 
and it would be im.possible to reach him very soon. We were 
also told that quite a large force of rebels were on our side 
of the river. Our only hope was to push on as fast as pos- 
sible. 

We passed through a t^iickl^ settled portion of th^ coun^ 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 185 

try for a few miles, then came to a wilderness again. After 
traveling about ten miles we got off our road entirely, but 
came across a flock of geese, and secured two after a hard 
chase. We then took our directions across country with- 
out any road, but the woods were thick and our progress 
slow. It began to get cloudy and we got into a deep ravine 
with plenty of water, and concluded to camp. Thus came 
our ninth night out of prison. 

In the morning it was raining very hard, and we were 
completely wet through and almost numb with cold. Our 
camp being a secure one, we built up a good fire and roasted 
our geese, but it rained all day, and we could not get dry. 
We were thoroughly soaked when night came on again. We 
had no more stars or moon to guide us, and were much puz- 
zled to know the right course. We would travel awhile, then 
rest and watch for the sight of a star, but none appeared. 
It rained heavily till past midnight. At length we came to a 
road and followed it. It was so dark that we could hardly 
see one another; still we kept on. Near morning, after we 
had passed a house, we were stopped by someone singing 
out, "'Halt !" We halted, but the voice came from a darky 
and we marched up to him. He was very much frightened 
and begged us not to hurt him. He said his name was 
Simon, and told us that he had been placed in the road by his 
master to keep watch and give the alarm if he saw any 
soldiers. He said that his master had all his goods packed 
and ready to leave at a moment's notice, fearing and ex- 
pecting that Sherman was coming, as he was not many miles 
away on the other side of the river. We learned also that we 
were traveling in the wrong direction, and had not come 
more than three miles from our starting point, although we 
had traveled twelve or fifteen miles. Simon also told us of a 



i86 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

good place to hide for the day, and that he would bring us 
something to eat, but he never came. 

On Sunday, December 4th, we spent some time in trying to 
rid ourselves of vermin, as we did on every pleasant day, 
and we were engaged in this active employment when we 
heard the very welcome sound of cannon about twelve miles 
away in the direction of the Savannah River. We were now 
in hearing distance of Sherman's Army, and were very 
much elated at our prospect of success in reaching his lines, 
and once more sleeping beneath the folds of our glorious 
old banner. During the early part of the night, before we 
got started, it was very cold, but the moon shone bright and 
we were confident of making a good night's march. Our 
provisions had run out, and we were obliged to forage a 
little. About eleven p.m. we made a raid upon a darky's 
shanty, and found an old negress and her boy, who willingly 
gave us something to eat, without knowing who we were, 
except as soldiers. She told us to go to "Nigger Jesse's," 
and he would tell us all about the nearest road to the river. 
We found Jesse's home and knocked, and were bidden to 
come in. We called him Jesse by name, and he appeared 
friendly. We told him who we were, but he looked upon us 
with suspicion, for one negro, he said, had been hanged in 
that vicinity for feeding some escaped Yankee prisoners. 
However, after a short parley he was convinced, and was 
willing to assist us on our way, notwithstanding the penalty 
should he be caught. It appeared that he was overseer on 
the plantation, and had charge of all the provisions and sup- 
plies for the hands. Being assured that we were genuine 
Yankees he took us into his meat house and told us to take 
as much as we could carry away. We each took a side of 
bacon and a small bag of sweet potatoes, making us a toler- 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 187 

ably heavy load. After feeding us well, he went with us five 
miles to show us a way across the fields that saved us about 
ten miles travel. He said that he had gone as far as he 
could go, and get back before daylight. We warmly thanked 
him, and went on our way rejoicing. Jesse had told us as 
soon as we got on the river road we would meet patrols, as 
the rebels were patrolling that road night and day, and were 
hunting the swamps, and the whole country for stray Yan- 
kees that had got on the north side of the river from Sher- 
man's army. We also learned from Jesse that Sherman 
was moving down the river towards Savannah. 

In a short time, after leaving Jesse, we came to the river 
road, and found plenty of horse tracks, showing that we 
were in the vicinity of cavalry. On the road we had to be 
very cautions, for fear of a surprise, and it necessarily made 
our progress slow. We were obliged to camp before day- 
light, and not start too early in the evening, for our 
course was now a dangerous one. As v/e could find no good 
place to camp, we turned off the road and lay down in an 
open field, full of small knolls, with plenty of water between 
them. It was co cold when we woke up in the morning that 
the ice on the water was a quarter of an inch thick. We 
were nearly frozen, but we pulled out as best we could and 
got into a piece of woods for the day, where we warmed up 
a little and slept without being disturbed. 

December 5th, between the hours of nine and ten p.m., 
we took the road down the river, intending to cross lower 
down if possible. It being cold, it was more comfortable 
while traveling, but we nearly froze when we stopped to rest. 
In the latter part of the night we saw fires ahead, but found 
them to be nothing but burning stumps, and there were 
plenty of cavalry signs along the road. As we were pass- 



i88 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

ing through a small, but thick piece of woods, the road 
turned and we found ourselves in a rebel cavalry camp. 
Men were on both sides of the road, and we could hear their 
voices. We halted, and consulted for a moment to decide 
whether it were best to turn back or not, but concluded to 
pass through. As they had no picket on the side of the 
camp where we came in, I thought it very likely they would 
have none on the other side, at least for some distance. 
The night was cloudy and very dark, and they were lying 
asleep around their small fires. With a catlike tread and 
hardly breathing, we passed through unnoticed, and made 
as good time as possible for some distance. At length we 
saw a very small picket fire in front, but we successfully 
flanked it. Before morning we camped in a triangular piece 
of woods and had to lie flat on the ground under a tree-top 
all day, for a lot of negroes were working from daylight till 
dark within a stone's throw of us, and we feared to trust 
them. We could hear cannon all day, about seven miles 
from us, showing that we were on Sherman's flank. The 
large cypress swamps prevented us from reaching our army, 
or attempting it, except at some crossing. 

On the 6th we started out at the usual hour in a heavy 
rainstorm, passed one picket, became completely soaked, and 
almost numb with cold. We waded two or three streams 
from one to two feet deep, and camped for the day in a 
swamp where the water covered the ground. We cut down 
a lot of alder poles and lay on them. It rained all the fore- 
noon, but we managed to get a little fire, and got along as 
well as could be expected under the circumstances. We had 
quite a stock of Jesse's meat and potatoes left yet, but 
thought it best to try to replenish, so just at night we moved 
Vip the road to reconnoitre for a darkey and something to eat. 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 189 

as well as for information. We did not wait long before one 
made his appearance, and we hailed him. He had a two- 
quart tin-pail with him, filled with roast chicken, and some 
kind of sweetbread, that he was taking home to his wife and 
three children, who lived on another plantation. We let him 
know who we were, and he immediately gave us the dainties 
that he was carrying to his little ones, and went back to his 
shanty for more sweet potatoes and a few ears of corn for 
us. His name was Fred. He had never seen a Yankee be- 
fore, and, like all the rest of the darkies, he was highly de- 
lighted to do something for us, and would have risked his Hfe 
in our behalf. He was so anxious to talk with us and talked 
so loudly that we had to send him away for fear of detec- 
tion, as he had informed us that a '1ieap" of soldiers had 
passed on horses just at night going the same way we were. 
He gave us considerable information concerning the road, 

streams, etc. 

It was a dark and cloudy night, and evident that we were 
among rebel cavalry. Fred told us that there were plenty 
of pickets along the road. It was cold, and we knew that 
all the picket posts would have fires. Soon after we had 
started on our way, we found a picket and flanked him. 
While on this manouvre a rebel passed us as we lay between 
the furrows of a freshly plowed field. In flanking a picket 
we always crawled as flat on the ground as possible, for 
obvious reasons. We pushed on, though very sore and lame, 
and my cold getting worse for being wet the night before. 
About midnight we came to a large camp of cavalry and as 
they seemed to be up and about, we had to be very cautious 
in flanking them. It being cloudy, we had no stars to guide 
us, and as we flanked them on the river side of the camp 
we came to a road which we supposed to be the river road 



190 ONE OF THE PEOPLE ^ 

we had left and followed it about a mile, when we came to a 
row of tents with large fires in front of them, and a num- 
ber of rebels and negroes standing about. A short distance 
further on we discovered a picket fire. We undertook to 
flank it on the right, when suddenly I pitched heels over 
head down an embankment four or five feet high, and Myers 
came tumbling after. We lay still for a few moments to 
see if we had attracted any notice, then got up and sur- 
veyed our position. On a little examination, we found that 
we were in the ditch of a fort. We soon got out and went 
back, and commenced flanking on the other side. An im- 
passable swamp compelled us to go near the tents. On our 
hands and knees in the mud and water we crawled along 
and passed them safely, but we had the picket post to flank. 
In trying to do this we discovered some water, which at 
first we supposed was only a pond, but soon found it was the 
Savannah River. 

We decided that we would try to cross it. As we were 

slowlv walking along the bank, a guard on the works at the 

ferrv'sangout, 'Tlalt!" We halted. ^Vho comes there? 

We' gave no answer, and certain that he would fire, I 

dropped flat on the ground, but Myers stood still. Bang, 

went a shotgun, and the shot flew around us like hail. I 

asked Myers if he was hit. He said no, and we ran as fast 

as our legs could carry us down the river until we came to 

the intersection of the river and swamp. It was a cypress 

swamp, with the water from three to four feet deep, and 

there was no telling how large it was. Here we stopped 

and disputed about the direction we should take. Myers 

was very much excited and was for pushing right through 

the swamp, which seemed to me like madness. He said 

he should go anyhow. I told him he would go alone, as I 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 191 

was going back to the river road. I started and he was soon 
following. In retracing our course we had to pass very 
near to the same sentinel who had fired upon us, and it 
seemed quite a serious undertaking, as he was now on the 
alert, and perhaps the whole camp also, and we exepected 
every moment to hear the dogs on our track. On our hands 
and knees, and a portion of the way flat on the ground 
through mud and water, we crawled like a couple of snakes. 
It was hard work, but liberty was the reward. I was in 
front, and after getting past the sentinel rose to my feet, 
but could see or hear nothing from Myers. I thought he 
must have turned back, and I feared to speak or make any 
noise for fear of attracting the attention of the sentinel. 
After waiting some time, I concluded to go on alone until I 
was in a more secure place, and then wait for him. After 
walking, creeping, and crawling for a long time I reached 
the road near where we had left it, and, hiding myself, 
waited for Myers. After a long time he came, minus his 
potatoes, corn and bacon, which he had dropped when the 
sentinel had fired. I held on to my potatoes and corn, but 
Myers had all of the bacon. 

As fast as we could go, we went back to where we had 
flanked the cavalry. The road which led from this cav- 
alry camp to the river, for about one mile was through 
an otherwise impassable swamp, and should we have met 
anyone on the road we should have had to lie flat 
on the ground at the edge of the road, or slide down into the 
water at the side of it. We finally gained the main river 
road again without meeting anyone. The night was very 
dark, and we were congratulating ourselves on our escape, 
when a voice immediately in front of us was heard, saying, 
"Get up.*' Quicker than I can tell it we were flat on the 



192 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

ground just outside the wagon tracks, and a rebel soldier, 
who was riding one horse and leading another, passed be- 
tween us. I could have taken hold of one of the horse's legs 
as they passed. The darkness of the night saved us from 
capture. It was a very sandy soil, and a horse made no 
more noise approaching than a cat would on a carpet. Again 
we started on, and wondered what next ! We pushed on as 
fast as possible until we came near a small place of three 
or four houses, named Robertsville. Just before we reached 
the place we saw a dim fire, and suspected that all was not 
right. The bushes were very thick, and before we were 
aware of it we were within six feet of a rebel picket, with 
his gun, sitting on the ground, leaning against a sapling, 
fast asleep. We crept cautiously past him and found our- 
selves again in the midst of cavalry ; but they were only on 
one side of the road, so we turned off the road to flank 
them. When we reached the road again we were greeted 
by some one singing out "Whoa!" not thirty feet off, and 
we dropped flat on the ground. It appeared that we had 
not yet passed the whole force, and I judged that this rebel's 
horse had stepped on him, for he swore roundly at it. We 
crawled along a fence for a long distance until we were en- 
tirely clear of the cavalry, then took the road again, con- 
cluding that we had got into a rather tight place. 

It was nearly morning when we discovered a large camp- 
fire some distance ahead, and another picket fire between. 
It was a very chilly night, but we had had plenty of warm 
work, and I was getting so tired and worn out that I could 
hardly move. The country was open, and we had to seek the 
shelter of the woods or be retaken. With all the energy we 
could muster we pushed on. We heard somebody talking 
in front of us, and, for want of a better place, laid on the 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 193 

ground, tight against a rail fence, and awaited their coming. 
It proved to be three darkies, and they passed so near me 
that I could have caught hold of them. As soon as they 
were out of the way we went on. A short time after we 
came as near a picket post as we dared to venture, and 
turned out to flank it. In doing so we passed through a 
small strip of woods. Being almost exhausted, we laid down 
and went to sleep not twenty rods from the picket. This 
had been the most eventful night we had since making our 
escape. We slept soundly until some time after daylight, 
then got up and made a reconnoissance of our position. 
Finding it a dangerous one, we took a roundabout course 
along a fence, in plain sight of a planter's house, and not 
many rods distant from it to a large piece of woods. 

In looking for a secure place near water we came nearly 
back to the road again, and concluded to stop for the day. 
Gathering some dry oak sticks, which made but little smoke, 
we built a small fire and roasted what few sweet potatoes 
we had left and ate them. While doing so, we heard a horn 
blow at the planter's house that we had passed, and soon 
after heard the hounds on our track. We came to the con- 
clusion that we had been seen in passing the house, and they 
had put the dogs after us. On they came, nearer and nearer. 
I shall never forget my feelings at that time, or the appear- 
ance of Myers. However, we determined to fight the dogs, 
if necessary, and Myers took a large cane that he had and 
backed up against a large pine tree. I sat down on the 
ground and put the end of a good-sized stick in the fire. 

On came the dogs furiously. There was no mistake — they 
were surely on our track. A big, black bloodhound led the 
pack. They were not in sight until within forty feet of us. 
With a savage howl the big bloodhound made directly for 



194 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

me. I seized the brand of fire and flourished it towards hirrt, 
When about ten feet from me he ceased barking, dropped 
his tail between his legs, turned off his course and disap- 
peared. The rest of the pack followed their leader, and 
soon the baying ceased. Just as we were thinking ourselves 
safe a man came along on horseback, blowing his horn, 
apparently to urge the dogs on again. Again we thought 
ourselves in a precarious situation, but we lay flat on the 
ground, and soon the dogs and man disappeared and we saw 
nothing more of them. When a child 1 read a story of a 
man who fought wild animals with fire and thus saved his 
life. When I heard the dogs coming that story came to my 
mind, and I used it with the best of success. Our sweet 
potatoes were very dry, and we became very thirsty. A 
sm.all pond of good water was but a few rods off, but a white 
man was sowing grain just beyond it and a darky harrowing 
it in. To reach this pond would bring us in sight of a house 
and in danger of being discovered. We tried to crawl down 
to it, but it was too much of a risk, and we waited until 
night. 

The last twenty-four hours had been very eventful ones. 
We could hear our guns on the other side of the river every 
day, and we feared that unless our forces crossed over our 
case was hopeless. Still, we kept up good spirits and de- 
termined to go through if it were possible. This was De- 
cember 8th. We got a drink soon after dark, and crawled 
out to the road and made an early start. All we had to eat 
was a few ears of corn, which we picked off the ear and ate 
as we went along. This was a quiet night with us, though 
we had several picket posts to pass, but no very narrow 
escapes. I was getting so fatigued that it was impossible to 
travel more than two miles without resting, and after a brief 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 195 

rest It seemed almost impossible to start again. Myers stood 
it much better, being in better health and the stronger of the 
two. 

Fortunately in my pocket I had a small piece of opium, 
which I used and managed to keep going. The country that 
we were now in was heavily wooded, and frequently we 
would come to forks in the road; but there was generally 
a guide board, and I would climb on Myers' shoulders and 
feel out the letters, and save matches. I often thought of 
General Marion, 'The Swamp Fox of the Revolution," for 
we were on the ground that he once used to roam over, and 
wondered if his men suffered worse than we were suffering. 

We stopped in a dense thicket during the day on the 9th 
of December and started out early. We flanked several 
picket posts and had some narrow escapes, but the darkness 
saved us, it being very cloudy. Two men with a pair of 
horses drove between us as we lay flat on the sides of the 
road. Our appetites were getting very keen, for we had had 
nothing but a little corn for twenty-four hours. Towards 
morning we found a couple of ears of corn in the road that 
had been dropped by the rebel cavalry, and soon after turned 
off the road and camped in the pitch-pine woods, where not 
a drop of water could be found. The day before we had 
no water, but plenty during the night; but this day, De- 
cember loth, was a rainy day, and finding some hardwood 
leaves, we caught some rain-water in them and managed 
to quench our thirst very well, but not enough to boil 
our corn, which we used very sparingly, as the prospects 
for getting anything more to eat very soon were very 
unfavorable. At night, when we started, it rained very 
hard, and we soon found that the whole country was 
flooded, and we had to crawl along the tops of fences in 



196 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

crossing small streams, or wade through. The country 
was flat, and we were obliged to walk in the water from 
one inch to three feet deep all night. Pickets were numer- 
ous, but we could get along with them. 

Starvation was staring us in the face, our clothes were 
drenched, and Myers' shoes were giving out, the sole be- 
ing entirely off one ; but we tied it on with some old rags, 
and kept on our way. Myers was getting very much dis- 
couraged, and said he was willing to give himself up. I 
encouraged him as much as possible, for I had no inten- 
tion of surrendering. The situation was certainly dis- 
couraging, but I did not propose to give up. We saw no 
house or picket that night, and when signs of day ap- 
peared we squatted down by a tree, with our feet in the 
water, as there was no dry place, and went to sleep. At 
daylight we found ourselves near the Charleston & Sa- 
vannah Railroad, and knew that we must be near Gra- 
hamsville, S. C. We crossed the railroad and crawled 
into an almost impenetrable swamp, not far from the 
road, and after many attempts succeeded in making a fire. 
I started with eighteen matches in a water-proof bone 
box, and now I had but one match left. 

It stopped raining, and we soon got dry, and, boiling 
what little corn we had left, ate it, and breaking down 
some saplings to keep us out of the water, lay down on 
them and went to sleep. 

Just at night we heard a locomotive whistle. It came 
from the direction of Savannah, only thirty miles away. 
We heard no firing that day, and did not know but our 
forces had possession of the road. We tried to find out 
by reconnoitering, but could not reach the railroad with- 
out exposing ourselves too much. Myers had a very nar- 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 197 

row escape in going out to the road just at night. Just 
as he reached it he saw a squadron of rebel cavalry com- 
ing. He dodged behind a stump, and escaped their no- 
tice. Soon after dark we concluded to get to the rail- 
road and find out who held it. We were almost starved, 
and must find something to eat if possible. After travel- 
ling a half mile in the direction of Savannah we found 
ourselves near a large camp, where there were one or 
two trains of cars on the track with engines attached. 
We could not make out whether they were our forces or 
rebels, and as the men were running about we determined 
to pass through and see what they were. Throwing our 
old blankets about our shoulders a la reb fashion, we went 
boldly into their camp and found they were rebels. I hap- 
pened to stumble against one, who had a saddle on his 
arm and was about to jump over a mud hole. I was do- 
ing the same act. I collided with him, and begged his 
pardon. ''Oh, that's all right," he said and went on. We 
walked leisurely between two lines of rebel infantry with- 
out attracting attention and came to one of the engines. 
We listened to the engineer talking to a rebel officer about 
Sherman, but gained no definite information, and went 
on, taking the first opportunity to get into the woods out 
of sight. This was the evening of the nth of December. 
After leaving the rebels we concluded to make the best 
time possible in the direction of Savannah. 

The town of Grahamsville is a village of one street, 
nearly a mile long lined with palatial residences of rich 
cotton and rice planters. We did not know that we were 
on the road between this town and the railroad, and had 
to keep dodging almost constantly to keep out of the way 
of rebel soldiers. In a couple of hours we reached the 



198 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

village and passed through the main street, constantly 
meeting white men and negroes, who paid no attention to 
us. After we got out of the town we were more cautious. 
It was a very bright moonlight night, and by stepping 
into the shade of a tree we were passed without being 
noticed. 

I recall one incident that happened here. We heard a 
carriage coming, and the voices of men and women. Be- 
ing in front of a fine house with a large evergreen tree a 
short distance away, we stepped into its shadow, close to 
the trunk, but instead of passing, the carriage drove up 
and stopped in front of the house only a few feet from 
us. Two ladies and two men got out and went into the 
house without noticing us, and the driver passed on and 
went back toward town. We thought this nothing re- 
markable at the time as we were getting used to narrow 
escapes. A mile or so farther on we met a battery of ar- 
tillery. Lying down behind a fence, we waited until it 
passed us. We went on again, but had to dodge some- 
body often for two or three miles. We were getting so 
tired and weak from the want of food and water that we 
could hardly move. Coming to the railroad, we conclud- 
ed to follow that, considering it less dangerous than the 
wagon road. 

After going a short distance we came to a negro's 
shanty, and after a careful investigation to see whether 
there were any white people inside, we knocked at the 
door and were reluctantly admitted. We pretended to be 
rebels and called for something to eat. An old wench be- 
gan boiling some rice and warming up some pigs feet. 
The cabin was full of darkies in bed and on the floor, near- 
ly all fast asleep. The only ones awake were a young 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 199 

wench and her beau, and the old woman who was getting 
us something to eat. We inquired about the Yankees, but 
they would not talk much about them, except to express 
the wish that they would stay "Norf whar they 'longed." 
The young, smart looking darky and his yaller gal kept 
looking at us and whispering, and finally began to ques- 
tion us. I thought they suspected that we were not reb- 
els and asked them who they thought we were, but they 
were silent. We finally told them. As soon as they were 
convinced there was nothing too good for us. Bread and 
sweet potatoes appeared at once. The door was care- 
fully fastened, and a small darkey sent out to warn us of 
the approach of any rebel soldiers. The young dark's 
name was Adam. He was able to give us a great deal of 
information. He thought we were Yankees, he said, as 
soon as we came in, and he offered to pilot us to our 
forces before morning. Kilpatrick, he said, was ten miles 
from there in the direction of Savannah, and Foster's 
forces ten miles in the opposite direction. Adam said that 
he could direct us to Foster's forces without going near 
the rebel pickets, but in going the other way we would 
have to pass a **heap" of rebels. We concluded to try 
with Adam's assistance to reach Foster that night. After 
we had eaten heartily, and with an extra supply of food 
for the future, we started across the country through the 
rice swamps. After about five miles travel we reached 
the last plantation that was inhabited toward the coast on 
Broad River. Here Adam left us in an old out-house, 
while he went to a darky's house to inquire about the 
pickets. He soon came back and gave us full directions 
where and how to go safely to reach our lines. With a 
warm hand shake and many thanks we left him and 



200 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

pushed on in the best of spirits, with a bright prospect of 
speedy release from all our sufferings. 

We found everything as Adam had told us and had but 
little trouble in finding the way as it was a clear, cold 
night, with the moon still shining, and we made good pro- 
gress. At length we came to an old picket post that had 
been occupied by our forces the day before, which we 
knew from the fact that the horses were shod and that 
they had been there since the rain of the night before, for 
the tracks were fresh. Our forces had probably with- 
drawn their pickets during the night, and at that moment 
we were possibly within our own lines. We travelled 
cautiously, but were in excellent spirits, hoping soon to 
gain our liberty. Visions of home and the comforts of 
life once more caused us to forget for the moment our 
weariness and our emaciated forms which had been 
severly taxed during the last eighteen days by our deter- 
mined efforts, continuous watching," marching and con- 
stant excitement. At length we came to another desert- 
ed post. This we examined closely and found that no 
rebels had been there since the rain of the night before. 
Believing that we must be near our lines, we were more 
buoyant than ever, and felt almost certain that we were 
safe. We soon came to a little creek that crossed the 
road, and found plenty of fresh horse tracks where the 
pickets had watered their horses, and found but few un- 
shod tracks by feeling them out with our hands, but they 
were all fresh. 

We advanced cautiously and soon came to a strip of 
woods where Adam was sure we would find our pickets. 
Just then we espied through an opening a horse hitched 
to a tree. We carefully crawled toward the horse, and 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE , 201 

idiscovered another horse as well as a small fire, with two 
men standing near with guns. They had on our over- 
coats and caps, but we could not see what kind of saddles 
were on the horses. Thinking that this must be a Yankee 
picket post we arose and marched boldly toward them, 
when a clear voice sang out ''Halt. Who comes there?" 
"Friends," we answered. "Advance," said the sentinel. 
When within a few steps of him he halted us again, and 
wanted to know who we were. I asked him if they were 
Yankees. "Not by a d — d sight. March up here and 
consider yourselves prisoners." 

And thus after all our weary marching, our hardships 
and our sufferings, and our many hairbreadth escapes, we 
found ourselves once more in the hands of the rebels, and 
voluntarily too, while our own forces were not more than 
a mile and a half away. 

Never in my life did I experience such feelings as at 
that moment. It is impossible to describe them. Yet 
hope did not entirely desert me, and we thought if we 
could only secure the two sentinels' arms we could march 
them into our camp, for we learned that we were but a 
short distance from our forces, who the night before oc- 
cupied the same picket post where we then were. They 
kept us at a respectful distance and took good care to 
allow us no advantage over them for a moment. Al- 
though tired, sleepy and almost worn out, I could not 
sleep. Our prospects for the future were indeed dark, 
and we fully realized it. We had travelled over two hun- 
dred miles in the darkness of night, weary, footsore, 
starving, but ever buoyed by hope, through constant pri- 
vations, hardships and dangers, until all our sufferings, 
mental and physical, seemed to be at an end; and now to 



202 ONE OF THE PEOPLE ^• 

have every ray of hope suddenly blotted out. What next? 
We were prisoners again, almost in hearing of our own 
troops. The pickets would not believe us when we told 
them we had travelled from Columbia. Just at daylight 
one of our gunboats commenced firing at the rebel pick- 
ets up the river. We learned from our captors that we 
had given ourselves up at the very spot where the battle 
of Honey Hill commenced on the 2gth and 30th of No- 
vember previous. Our captors gave us something to eat, 
and about eight o'clock in the morning we were started 
for Grahamsville. We were so sore and lame that it was 
almost impossible to move when we came to start, and it 
seemed like going to the grave instead of home, which we 
thought so near a few hours before. Our guards, who 
were old soldiers, treated us very well. Our route to 
Grahamsville for three miles was directly over the battle- 
field of Honey Hill. All the black troops that fell on that 
field lay there still unburied. Some of the bodies were 
stripped of clothing entirely. The stench was almost un- 
bearable. We saw a number of old planters with their 
negroes looking over the field, showing them the dead 
bodies of their race and trying to impress upon them that 
all who ran away and joined the Yankees were put in 
front and made to fight and be killed. Our guards in- 
formed us that planters came a long distance with their 
blacks to show them these sights for the purpose of keep- 
ing them at home. 

In a couple of hours we arrived in the rebel camp about 
a mile from town, to which we were ordered, and got al- 
most there when we were ordered back again, taken be- 
bore ex-Governor and Brigadier-General Chestnut, and 
examined very closely and separately, We were then sent 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 203 

to town and again examined. They thought us spies 
from Sherman's camp, and would not beheve that we had 
travelled from Columbia, saying it was impossible, for they 
had troops all the way on the route we must have come, 
and we would have been caught or starved before we got 
so far. After waiting some time we were examined again 
and asked for papers. I happened to have an old letter 
from a member of my regiment that I received in Charles- 
ton, and Myers had one from his regiment, the Seventy- 
sixth New York Infantry. These letters, I think, saved 
us. Doubtless we would have dangled between heaven and 
earth from the limb of some tree had we been destitute of 
any proof that we were not spies. It looked pretty blue 
for us for a while, and the guard that frequently reminded 
us that we would be swinging from the end of a rope be- 
fore the sun went down and he would be glad to help pull 
it. 

About noon our letters were returned to us and we were 
confined in a kind of pen just outside their guard-house. 
This was the 12th day of December, 1864. We were taken 
to the pen and shut up with a black corporal who was taken 
prisoner at the battle of Honey Hill with two others be- 
longing to the Fifty-fourth United States Infantry. The 
other two were taken out and shot soon after they were 
caught, but the corporal told them that he was free born 
and belonged in South Carolina and wanted to go home. 
Our pen where we were confined was six feet by eight, and 
we could just stand up straight in it. It was made of 
small logs about six inches through and pinned together 
at the corners. It was the same at the top and bottom, 
with none of the cracks stopped, and looked like a cage for 
wild beasts. Four men guarded us and their own guard- 



204 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

house. One of them treated us well and brought us pro- 
visions on his own account, so that we had more to eat 
than we had at any time while confined. After a night's 
rest we began to devise means of escape again and thought 
we might possibly get this rebel soldier, who was a Union 
man at heart, to assist us. I hinted the subject to him and 
he said he would do all he could and at first suggested that 
he might go with us, but as his father and mother lived at 
Grahamsville and he did not like to leave them. The fact 
is he hadn't nerve enough to undertake it for fear of be- 
ing caught. He finally promised to let us know the next 
day, as he was going home that night, and promised also 
to find out where and how the rebel pickets were stationed. 
The next day, December 14th, he told us where the pickets 
were, but could not nerve himself to go with us. I oflfered 
him money and promised everything in my power that I 
could do for him if he would take us safely through to our 
lines, which could be reached in three hours, but it was no 
use. Fear of being caught caused him to fight on against 
his principles. When each sentinel was relieved during the 
night the pen was examined to see if all were present. 

Our Union Rebel at last agreed to let us get out while 
he was not looking if we could manage in some way to 
make it appear that we did not escape while he was on 
duty. 

Hopes of liberty again made me feel jubilant. The 
guard was allowed to take one of us out during the day- 
time to get pine leaves for our beds. I got a chance to go 
out and gather what I could carry and took them in; then 
with the wood we had we could fix up some dummies under 
the old blankets and a piece of tent the black corporal had. 
The corporal was to stay; Myers and myself were to go 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 205 

after arranging the dummies in bed with the corporal so as 
to deceive the next guard that came on after we had gone. 
We knew where the pickets were and how to pass them. 
Three hours time was all we wanted to reach our lines. 
After everything was ready we were impatient for the time 
to come when we could make our exit. But, alas! just 
after dark five rebel soldiers came with an order to take 
us to the depot and send us to Charleston, S. C, and so 
our hopes were again dashed to the ground, and no pros- 
pect of escape open to us. They marched us to the depot, 
and with five men guarding us, kept us there all night. I 
lay awake all night on the ground, watching for an oppor- 
tunity to get away. At one time Myers, the negro, and 
four of the guards were asleep. I thought the other one 
began to nod and I would get a chance, but some one came 
along and I was foiled again. 

The next morning the rebs issued us some fresh beef, a 
big bone with some meat on it, and the question was how 
Myers and I were to divide it. We drew cuts to decide 
it and I won. Then Myers thought we should draw again 
for the choice. Again I won and we got into a quarrel 
which nearly ended in a fight (the first since we had been 
out). Finally Myers proposed another trial and once more 
I won the choice, which settled it. 

About noon we were put on a train for Charleston which 
had to run the gauntlet of our gunboats that lay in the Po- 
cotalige River. The train was to pass in the daytime and 
would be the first for three days to make the attempt. We 
were in the rear car. They ran the train as fast as possible 
in passing places exposed to the fire of the gunboats. One 
gunboat fired several shots, and one solid shot struck about 
twenty yards from the rear car of the train in the centre of 



^66 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

the track. Two rifle balls, fired by our sharp shooters, 
struck the train. I was never on a train before when I 
wished for an accident, but we were carried safely through 
to Charleston, where we were put into jail, amid scenes 
quite familiar to us, the jail being the next building to the 
one where we were confined before. We found three of- 
ficers there who had escaped and been recaptured after be- 
ing out eleven days and nights. We had the privilege of 
three rooms and a hall in the third story, with nothing but 
the bare walls and floor. A more miserable, dirty, squalid 
place would be hard to find. It was now the i6th of De- 
cember. We were fed but once a day and then not half 
enough for a meal. At this rate we were bound to starve. 
It was much worse than living out in the woods. 

In the jail were prisoners of every description — rebel de- 
serters, galvanized Yankees, and citizens. One man had 
been in there for two years because he was a staunch 
Union man. One year of the time he was in irons. On the 
seventeenth we were placed in a room one story lower 
down with twelve of our enlisted men from Andersonville. 
Here were seventeen of us in a room ten by fifteen. About 
half of these men were the most pitiful objects imaginable 
— nothing but skin and bones, covered with sores and ver- 
min. All of their clothes had been worn for months with- 
out washing. They were almost idiots from the effects of 
their treatment. One man I noticed in particular. He had 
his corner and scarcely ever moved out of it or spoke a 
word except when something to eat came in. Then he 
would brighten a little and eat like a famished dog. Not 
a word of complaint escaped his lips. In fact he was like 
a living corpse. He could not, or would not, tell me who 
he was or where he belonged. How soon I would become 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE ^207 

his counterpart was hard to tell. I was fast rivalling him 
in filthiness, for we had no way of cleansing ourselves. 
These days in the Charleston jail were the most sickening, 
disgusting, and hardest to bear of any part of my confine- 
ment in Southern prisons. Our excretions were deposited 
in a tub or half barrel and emptied but once in twenty-four 
hours. The stench was terrible. No wonder we were fast 
becoming subjects for a mad-house. 

December i8th. The enlisted men were taken out of 
jail and sent to Florence, S. C, to a pen not a jot better 
than Andersonville. They gave us a little better provision 
this day, though very scanty. On the morning of the 19th, 
before day, we were aroused and given a small piece of 
fresh beef each, then taken out and marched to the depot 
and put on board a train for Columbia. My piece of beef 
I ate raw, and a very sweet morsel it was, too; yet it did 
not satisfy my hunger. We were very glad to get out of 
the Charleston jail. Nothing occured worthy of note on 
the trip, but we were in no hurry and enjoyed the fresh air. 
No chance presented itself for escape, and just at night we 
arrived at Columbia. We were marched at once to the jail 
and locked up without a mouthful to eat, and those in 
charge would give us no water, though we were nearly 
famished for the want of it. 

On the morning of the 20th we were taken out and 
marched to the Lunatic Asylum yard, to which our prison- 
ers had been removed while we were away. The first thing 
we looked for among our friends was a mouthful to eat. 
They regretted our capture yet glad that we were alive. 
A number that escaped were caught by dogs and badly bit- 
ten. From the asylum yard there seemed no way of es- 
cape and our chance to get North very soon seemed hope- 



2o8 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

less. We must now rely upon Sherman. The weather had 
become very cold — colder than it had ever been known be- 
bore in that country. I had no shelter and nearly froze. 
Lieutenant Johnson of the Tenth New York Cavalry and 
I finally made us a little hut of dirt and a few pieces of 
boards and sticks and covered it with the old blanket I had 
brought with me. Some officers of our acquaintance had 
been exchanged since we had been out and left their old 
blankets with Johnson. They gave him also an order for 
any money that might be sent to them. In this way we 
obtained a little money and managed to get a little meat 
at five dollars a pound, so that we fared somewhat better. 
We suffered very much with the cold, for it was impossible 
to get wood enough to keep us warm, and for a few weeks 
I was hardly able to move about. 

About the only hope we had was the continued success 
of our armies. There were about eleven hundred of us, 
and the rebels had furnished lumber enough to shelter 
about three hundred, and probably one hundred more were 
sheltered in tents. The rest had to do the best they could. 
Tunnels were started, but were generally discovered. 

One incident I must record here. Lieutenant S. H. By- 
ers of an Iowa regiment wrote a poem entitled "Sherman's 
March to the Sea." It was sung every afternoon by a 
large choir of prisoners. Many of the citizens of the town 
would often mount the platform of the stockade and call 
for the song. The words were as follows : 

"Our camp fire shone bright in the mountains, 
That frowned on the river below. 
While we stood by our guns in the morning 
And eagerly watched for the foe. 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 209 

When a rider came out of the darkness 
That hung over mountain and tree, 
And shouted 'Boys, up, and be ready, 
For Sherman will march to the sea,' 
And shouted Boys, up, and be ready, 
For Sherman will march to the sea/ 

Then cheer upon cheer for bold Sherman 

Went up from each valley and glen, 

And the bugles re-echoed the music 

That came from the lips of the men ; 

For we knew that the stars on our banner 

More bright in their splendor would be. 

And that blessings from Northland would greet us 

When Sherman marched down to the sea. 

Then forward, boys, forward to battle. 

We marched on our wearisome way, 

And we stormed the wild hills of Resaca — 

God bless those that fell on that day 1 

Then Kenesaw, dark in its glory, 

Frowned down on the flag of the free ; 

But the East and the West bore our standards. 

And Sherman marched on to the sea. 

Still onward we pressed, till our banner 
Swept out from Atlanta's grim walls. 
And the blood of the patriot dampened 
The soil where the traitor flag falls. 
But we paused not to weep for the fallen. 
Who slept by each river and tree, 



210- ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

Yet we twined them with a wreath of the laurel 
As Sherman marched down to the sea. 
For we twined them with a wreath of the laurel 
As Sherman marched down to the sea. 

Oh, proud was the army that morning, 
That stood where the pine proudly towers, 
When Sherman said 'Boys, you are weary 
This day, fair Savannah is ours.' 
Then sang we a song for our chieftain, 
That echoed o'er river and lea, 
And the stars in our banner shone brighter 
When Sherman marched down to the sea. 
And the stars in our banner shone brighter 
When Sherman marched down to the sea. 

Lieutenant Byers presented a copy to General Sherman, 
written on scraps of paper, and he speaks of it in his Mem- 
oirs. The lines were composed soon after Sherman had 
taken Savannah, and was sung for the first time in our 
prison a few days after I got back. Thus the Winter wore 
away, and rumors got into camp that Sherman was on the 
march again. The darkles smuggled some newspapers in- 
to camp, from which we learned that he was coming to- 
ward Columbia. A party of twenty-five had been working 
in a tunnel which was now ready to open, and each was 
allowed to choose two friends to go out with him. I was 
chosen for one, and immediately made preparations to try 
my luck again. 

Then, on the I5tli of February, came orders to be ready 
to move in two hours. We knew that Sherman was near, 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 211 

and although foiled in our tunnel scheme, Lieutenant John- 
son and myself determined to effect our escape from the 
cars during the night. We had an old case knife with saw 
teeth filed in the back for the purpose of sawing a hole in 
the bottom of the car. During one of the coldest rain- 
storms I had ever seen in the South — the rain freezing as 
it fell — we were stowed on a train of cars, fifty-five in each 
car. Soon after dark the train started, and before we had 
gone many miles we had a hole sawed through the bottom 
of our car, ready to crawl through as soon as the train 
should stop at any small station. Thirty miles from Co- 
lumbia the train stopped where there was no station, and 
through the hole we went, followed by half a dozen others. 
We lay down close to the track outside, waiting for the 
train to start. The guards stationed on top of the cars 
were nearly frozen, and the officers in command were get- 
ting them down from the top and placing them inside the 
cars. In doing this they discovered many Yankees outside 
and put them back into the cars again. Johnson was 
caught, but no sooner in than he slipped out again. To 
keep out of sight I had to roll from one side of the road to 
the other under the cars. One of the guards in getting 
down from, the top of the car dropped his gun and it came 
very near falling upon me. About that time I saw a rebel 
officer coming with a lantern looking for escaped prisoners. 
A pile of cross ties were piled up across the gutter. There 
were six inches of water in the gutter, and the ties were 
about six inches above the water. I rolled down the em- 
bankment five or six feet and crowded myself feet fore- 
most under the ties into the water with my head sticking 
out. It was rather a cold bath, but I lay still and escaped 
the notice of the officer. Soon after, Johnson came down 



212 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

and jumped across the gutter near my head, and I calleH to 
him in a whisper and he helped me out. 

We succeeded in getting away from the train and took 
a road that led back to Columbia. We had not gone far 
before we came up with Captain Getman of the Tenth New 
York Cavalry, Lieutenant Crosley, of the One Hundred 
and Tenth Pennsylvania A^'olunteers, and Lieutenant Fish- 
er, of the One Hundred and Forty-second New York In- 
fantry, who was the only officer captured at Fort Fisher at 
the time of Butler's fizzle. A little later we came across 
two more officers, who soon left us. The four mentioned 
above and myself comprised our party. It was an awful 
night, the rain falling heavily, freezing as it fell and cov- 
ering the ground with ice. I never suffered more with 
cold than on that night. My clothes were in rags, hardly 
covering my nakedness, and were frozen stiff. But we 
were free again, and in good spirits considering the cir- 
cumstances. We had with us but very little to eat, and 
that was soaked with water. At the side of the road, under 
an old shed, we held a short consultation and concluded 
to cross the Broad and Saluda rivers and join Sherman, 
south of Columbia, thinking we could flank the rebel army 
easier in that direction than in the other. 

Although it rained continuously, we travelled about fif- 
teen miles as near as we could calculate. Toward morning 
we discovered by a mile-stone that we were twenty-seven 
miles from Columbia. Turning off the road into a piece of 
woods we lay down to rest, but it was so cold we could 
not keep warm without moving about. At daylight we 
found a secure place in a ravine where a large tree had fal- 
len and built a good fire. Although it continued to rain, 
we made out to get warm and eat what little provision we 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 213 

had. Crawling out near the road, I saw a woman pass on 
horseback, and we knew that we were not far from a habi- 
tation of some sort. At night it cleared off, and the moon 
shone bright, which would help us in our attempt to cross 
Broad River and get into a better country where we hoped 
to get something to eat. 

Very lame and sore from the previous night's march, we 
started out and came to a guide board, directing us to a 
ferry that crossed Broad River. We took the road that led 
to the ferry. About midnight we met three officers who 
escaped at the same time we did, and they had a negro 
guide with them. Our party was already too large, and we 
did not join them. Their guide told us that we could not 
cross at the ferry, but would have to go up the river about 
ten miles. With these instructions we turned in that di- 
rection. About three o'clock a.m. we heard cannon and 
knew that Sherman had attacked the city but concluded to 
keep on our course. At these w^elcome sounds we threw up 
our hats with joy, but made no unnecessary noise in our 
demonstrations. 

After travelling until nearly day, we came back to the 
guide board that we left the night before. This was rather 
discouraging, but we turned back, took another road, and 
camped in a thick piece of woods where we could have a 
fire, as we were not yet dry from the recent storm. The 
firing kept up in the direction of Columbia all the morning, 
and at intervals during the day. As we were between two 
railroads we could hear the cars moving to and fro almost 
constantly, and believed the rebels were evacuating the 
city. As we had nothing to eat, our first business after 
night was to find some provisions. Soon after dark we 
started out, organized as follows: Getman, Crosley, and 



214 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

Smith, who had not been out before, and as Tommy John- 
son and I had had experience as refugees, therefore they 
insisted that we should take the lead. Our plan of march 
was in single file at intervals of a few rods so as to keep in 
sight of one another and communicate any signal from the 
leader along the line and act accordingly. So Tom and I 
relieved each other frequently and kept in touch at all 
times. After travelling a couple of miles we came to some 
negro quarters a little distance from the road, and Johnson 
and Smith visited them while the rest of us waited behind 
a fence for their return. They succeeded in getting some 
cornmeal and a bottle of sorghum molasses. Each took a 
small handful of meal and we marched on, fearing to stop 
to cook it, for Tom learned from the darkies that the bridge 
we intended to cross was guarded, and that a party of reb- 
els with about one hundred of Sherman's men as prisoners 
had passed that day and gone to Winsboro. We concluded 
to change our course and take another road and endeavor 
to flank the rebel army on the other flank, where there were 
no streams to cross, but we had to cross the railroad, 
which no doubt was well guarded. 

Very cautiously we proceeded, and before morning 
reached the suburbs of Winsboro. This town we easily 
flanked and soon came to the railroad, which was guarded, 
as we knew by the small fires along the track. It was an 
open country but the picket fires were not very near to- 
getlier. We selected a place for crossing and each man 
was to crawl far enough to the other side to be out of dan- 
ger. I had the lead and passed safely over. Tom came 
close behind me, and the others all got over without alarm- 
ing the pickets. We then struck across the country, avoid- 
ing the road and guided by the stars. Daylight coming on, 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 215 

we camped in a deep ravine but a short distance from the 
main road and railroad and but a few miles from where 
we escaped from the cars. We had a secure place behind 
a wooded bluff that overlooked the main road and railroad. 
We made mush all day in a pint cup, each one taking his 
turn. All conversation was carried on in a whisper. Tom 
and I crawled to the top of the bluff* and saw Beauregard 
and a small division of infantry, some cavalry, and a 
couple of batteries of artillery pass on the retreat toward 
Winsboro. We heard firing all day and concluded that 
Sherman must be in Columbia as the firing was much near- 
er at night than it was in the morning. 

Our prospects seemed bright and we determined to make 
our way back to Columbia, keeping clear of the main roads 
as much as possible to avoid pickets and stragglers, for 
there were too many of us to work the flanking process 
successfully. At night huge fires lighted up the sky in 
the direction of Columbia, and some negroes that we met 
informed us it was the city burning, and also that the 
woods were on fire, which subsequently proved correct. 
We started across the country in the direction of Colum- 
bia in the attempt to flank the rebel army. An occasional 
gun was fired during the night, which proved we were not 
far from the opposing forces, but we were getting along 
finely. We came to some negro shanties and found the 
darkies all excited, but got something to eat for all of us. 
We learned, too, that Sherman's forces were only seven 
miles from us but the rebels were between us and Sherman. 
We kept on slowly and cautiously with good success. On 
the morning of the i8th of February we camped in a small 
but thick grove of pines not far from a house. As the 
country was thickly settled we could find no very secure 



2i6 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

place. We lay and slept most of the day in a dry ravine 
where the ground was covered with pine leaves and pine 
branches. We heard no firing during the day. We had a 
small fire in the morning to cook a few sweet potatoes we 
had but soon put it out. 

In the afternoon a wench and a little yellow girl came 
carefully down to the woods toward us. The wench had 
seen a little smoke come up through the tops of the trees 
from our fire we had in the morning. She said "she didn't 
tole any body, but thought dar mus' be Yankees down 
dar" and as soon as she got a chance came down to see. 
Her name was Manda. She had never seen a Yankee be- 
fore, and it was a long time before she would come near 
us. Her visit was most opportune, for we were destitute 
of eatables. After some conversation she promised to 
bring us something to eat as soon as it was dark. Before 
night we heard troops camping in the edge of the woods 
that we occupied. Crawling quietly down to the bottom 
of the ravine, we lay still, awaiting events. We were sure 
they were rebels, for if Yankees the wench would have told 
them and we should have been found, as we instructed her 
to that effect. Just at dark a man with two horses came 
within a stone's throw of us, apparently looking for water, 
but soon returned. It was too dark to distinguish his uni- 
form and we lay quietly until about ten o'clock at night, 
when we heard a low whistle near us. After several sig- 
nals of the same kind we answered the signal and found it 
to be from an emissary of Manda with directions to stay 
where we were and she would soon bring us something to 
eat. Six hundred rebels camped near the house and she 
had been obliged to cook for them and was unable to get 
avord to us earlier. True to her promise, she came with a 



MY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 217 

basket of pork, potatoes and bread, which were most wel- 
come. In the morning, February 19th, we still held our 
position. At reveille a rebel band struck up and gave us 
a few Dixie tunes, then moved out, much to our relief. 
Manda had promised to let us know as soon as they had 
gone and bring us something more to eat. 

This day was Sunday. Manda cooked and brought us 
a couple of chickens that she had saved by killing and put- 
ting them in her bed while the rebels were there, and we 
had a fine meal. Manda brought her husband with her, a 
big, strong fellow, whose name was Bill. He was one- 
quarter Indian, one-half white, and one-quarter negro. He 
had travelled all over the South with his master who had 
owned a stud of race horses. He was about thirty years 
of age and could read and write. He was anxious to go 
with us and join the Yankee army. He said he could show 
us the way to Columbia and avoid all the main roads. 
Manda was anxious he should go with us, and said she 
would go home and get everything ready and give us all 
something to eat to take with us. I was much pleased with 
the plan of taking hi'm with us to act as a guide, but all 
the others of the party were against it, and thought it the 
most dangerous thing we could do. They talked the mat- 
ter over a good deal during the afternoon. At length I 
said, "Boys, we can settle this very easily. You go ahead 
as you please. I'll take the guide and trust to him." 

When night came I said ''Bill, come on, you and I will 
start out." The others soon followed, and I heard no 
further objections. We travelled along with good success 
until we almost ran into some rebel pickets, but we flanked 
them successfully. As we were all moving in line, about 
fifteen or twenty yards apart down a stony by-road, I heard 



2i8 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

some one approaching on horseback at a Hvely pace. I was 
in the lead, Tom next. Tom dropped down on one side of 
the road and I on the other behind a low bush. When the 
officer, as he seemed to be, got abreast of me his horse 
shied out of the road and nearly unhorsed the man, but he 
stuck to him and said, "Get up, dam you, are you afraid 
of a hog?" and putting spurs to the animal rapidly left us. 
I was unblushingly happy to be taken for a hog on that 
occasion and felt no disposition to resent it. 

Daylight coming on, we stopped in an open piece of 
woods where we could hear troops but a short distance off, 
who were no doubt rebels. We crawled under a tree top 
that had lately fallen and had to lay there all day for fear 
of being discovered. I sent my guide to find a place by 
himself and come back to us after dark. Troops were in 
hearing all day, seemingly at work tearing up the railroad, 
but we heard no signs of fighting. There was no way of 
finding out who they were until dark without exposing 
ourselves too much. Toward night the noise in our front 
ceased, but the woods had been set on fire, and we were 
threatened with being burned out, but darkness came on 
before the fire reached us, and our guide, Bill, came also. 

As soon as it was dark enough to venture out, we took a 
circuitous route and flanked the picket post that we came 
near encountering in the morning on the opposite side. Be- 
fore we were well under way it was near ten o'clock. 
Bill said we were seventeen miles from Columbia. We 
made thirteen miles the night before. It looked like get- 
ting home and we were all in fine spirits. Fearing to 
travel by any road, we took a course by the stars directly 
toward Columbia. Most of our march was through an al- 
most impenetrable swamp and thicket, then over a ridge, 



AIY CAPTURE AND ESCAPE 219 

then a creek and another swamp. Each creek was known 
to our guide, and he also knew the distance from each to 
Columbia. Fires lighted up the horizon immediately on our 
course and we were confident that we could reach our lines 
before day. At length we came to an almost impassable 
swamp and creek, the water being about four feet deep 
and the underbrush very thick. It was about three hun- 
dred feet across and took us nearly two hours to get over 
it, but we all reached dry land again safely, but cold, wet, 
and almost tired out. Large fires were but just over a 
small hill from us which we thought might be from a rebel 
camp. We soon took up our line of march in single file, 
about three rods apart, with the negro well in the rear. 
With the utmost caution, Tom and I investigated our 
front. By crawling to the brow of the hill we. saw that the 
woods were on fire. Old fallen trees, stumps and logs all 
ablaze, it looked like lines of picket fires in front of us. 

Seeing no one, and hearing no human sounds, we passed 
through the line of fire and smoke and kept on our course. 
We were expecting every moment to be halted, but kept 
on, not knowing what else to do. After marching a mile 
or two through the burnt woods, the fires began to grow less, 
or rather had burnt out, and only here and there an old log 
or stump was smouldering. I was busy groping my way 
slowly along, approaching every fire with distrust, when I 
was suddenly brought to a standstill by a voice singing out 
''Halt! Who comes there?" Every one dropped to the 
ground and commenced crawling away, except myself. I 
gave the answer, ''Friend," and moved slowly into the shade 
of a large tree. "Who are you?" said the sentinel, and I 
heard his gun click as he cocked it. I was convinced at once 
that he was no rebel by his tone and dialect. No rebel would 



220 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

say "Who are you?" as he did. I felt so certain of it that 
I called to the others to come on, that we were all right. 
"Hold on there! Who are you?" said he. "An escaped 
prisoner," I answered. "Corporal of the guard, here's a man 
who says he is an escaped prisoner." "Advance," said the 
corporal. I caught a glimpse of the sentinel's blue clothes, 
and the U. S. on his belt. It was some time before I could 
get the boys all together, Bill the guide coming in last. 



CHAPTER X. 

UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES AGAIN. 

Surrounded by Yankees once more, our joy knew no 
bounds, and a happier set of beings I never saw. We danced, 
sang, thanked God that we were once more under the pro- 
tection of the Stars and Stripes. It was a Wisconsin regi- 
ment of Sherman's army that we had found on picket. A 
sergeant conducted us to division headquarters, where we 
were provided with plenty to eat, and a place to sleep by a 
good fire, but we were too happy to sleep. General John 
E. Smith, commanding the Third Division of the Fifteenth 
Army Corps, at whose headquarters we then were, sent his 
compliments to us by an orderly, and requested that we 
make a little less noise so that he could get a little sleep. I 
think the morning of the 21st of February, 1865, was one 
of the happiest mornings of my life. Never did the glorious 
old flag of our Union look half so good to me as at that 
time. 

Thus ended my prison life of eight months' duration, lack- 
ing three days. Our party remained with the Third Division 
until we reached Fayetteville, twenty-two days after. The 
staff officers all tried to make it as pleasant as they could 
for us. On the march I was given a ride in the ambulance 
for the first day, as I was hardly able to walk or even ride 
on horseback. The next day I got a mule from the quar- 
termaster and rode with the column. Our division had the 

221 



552 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

advance that day, and General John A. Logan rode in the 
advance with us. I believe every man in the Fifteenth Corps 
loved that man. 

Lieutenant Johnson and I generally rode together, and we 
concluded we must have some clothes that were a little more 
presentable than our worn-out prison clothes; so we did a 
little foraging on our own account. The first house we came 
to that was inhabited, and not too far from the column, we 
stopped at and knocked for admission. There were three 
women in the house, who were considerably frightened at 
our informal entrance into their house. I asked if there 
were any men about the house. "No, they were all gone, 
fighting you Yankees," said one, "and I wish they'd kill 
every one of ye." Their answer settled the political status 
of that family, and I told Tom to entertain the ladies while 
I looked the house over for men and clothes. Although the 
woman had declared that there was no men's clothing in the 
house, 1 soon found quite a good stock to select from. We 
assured the ladies that we were very much in need of cloth- 
ing, and that they need have no fears of our taking anything 
else, but clothing we must have if we could find it. In one 
of the bedrooms I found each of us a suit of underclothing, 
two pairs of trousers, a good blue frock coat for myself, and 
each of us a clean white muslin shirt. Tom held quite a 
lively discussion with the women while I selected the goods. 
After thanking the ladies for their kindness we departed, 
and seeing the column halted in the road, repaired to a 
thicket a short distance from the house and exchanged our 
old prison duds for our new outfit. Tom was fitted to a 
"T," but mine was a little large, except the coat. A com- 
plete outfit from the ground up secured us a complete re- 
lease from vermin, and we felt like new men. 



UxNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES AGAIN 22:^; 

February 24th. On the march again to-day in a drizzling 
rain. Some of Sherman's ''bummers" captured a train of 
a dozen wagons or more, drawn by some fine horses and 
mules, and loaded with a!l manner of household goods, 
clothing, women and children. In one wagon was a large 
lot of white lambs' wool blankets, double size, and the boys 
presented us prisoners with a pair each, which were very 
acceptable, and insured our comfort for the rest of the trip. 
vSo far, we had met with the kindest treatment from the 
general and his staff, down to the private soldiers. 

February 25th. To-day we are quiet in camp, fourteen 
miles north of Camden, where we crossed the Catawba 
River after quite a little fight at the crossing by one of our 
advance divisions. Our quartermaster of the division kindly 
furnished me a mule, and I went out with a foraging ex- 
pedition and captured a little white mule, a saddle and bridle. 
After that I had transportation of my own. We had a pleas- 
ant time, and got back to camp all right. There were some 
rebel cavalry hovering about our flanks, and when they 
captured any of our men, either shot or hung them, which 
caused our general to retaliate. We were now on the ground 
of old Revolutionary scenes, and to me the country was 
very interesting indeed. 

February 26th. On the march to-day. Plenty of rebel 
cavalry hanging on our flanks, but not interfering with our 
movements. Am greatly enjoying this trip, and am in fair 
condition. Having a hard rain. 

February 27th. Camping near Kelly's Ferry, on Lynch 's 
Creek, waiting for the water to fall so that we can move 
across comfortably. I am domiciled to-day in the house 
of an old Secesh planter by the name of Kelly. 

There was, now and then, a loyal man or woman, even 



22\ ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

in South Carolina, as is shown in the following account of 
the experience of an officer who escaped from the train the 
same night I did. He called at a planter's house and made 
himself known to a young lady, who secreted him under a 
bed in her own room, and was fed and waited upon by her. 
Her father had left home to escape conscription, and wish- 
ing to get her prisoner upstairs without anyone knowing it, 
she called all the blacks together and got them engaged in 
divine service while the officer moved to his hiding place 
unobserved. As soon as our forces came along he was 
restored to liberty, "and you bet,'* said he, "that place was 
not disturbed by our troops." 

February 28th. There was no advance to-day; weather 
very rainy. I am living on the fat of the land, chickens, 
turkeys, fresh meat of all kinds, preserves, wines, fine old 
brandies, etc. We are at the house in Kershaw District, 
S. C, where the first secession flag was raised by W. Kelly. 
At the time I was writing the foregoing memoranda he was 
in the next room, tearfully declaring that he had always 
been a good Union man. 

March i, 1865. I am not well to-day, and hardly able to 
move about. We still remain at Kelly's on account of the 
high water in Lynch's Creek. 

March 2d. A little better this morning. Moved seven 
miles to-day to Kellysville and camped for the night. 

March 3d. To-day is my birthday. Am thirty-three years 
old. Am far from well. Started on the march early to-day. 
Not far from our column a lieutenant-colonel was taken 
prisoner, two men killed, and one murdered, not more than 
twenty-five rods from me. Hope the rebels will not get me 
again. Think Fll stick close to the column hereafter. 

March 4th. W^e are two miles from Cheraw. Marched 



UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES AGAIN 225 

1 
29 miles yesterday. This army can beat the Army of the 

Potomac making rapid marches. A battle is going on ahead, 

but our division is not ordered to the front, but formed in 

line of battle, and I may have a chance to see a fight, as the 

enemy seem to be making a stand at Cheraw. We reached 

there at 8 p.m., but the battle was over. The boys ahead 

of us had whipped the rebels and captured forty-two pieces 

of artillery, ten thousand stands of small arms, a large 

number of prisoners, cotton, and all sorts of army stores, 

and lost only a few men. We camped near Cheraw, on the 

field of the battle, near the town. 

March 5th. We crossed the Peedee River this morning, 
the rebels retreating before us. Camped at half past ten 
o'clock A.M. In camp all day. The Twentieth Corps passed 
us to-day. I feel some better. 

March 6th. Rested in camp all day. Hundreds of black 
and white refugees constantly coming into camp. I saw a 
peculiar sight yesterday. The creeks were so high and the 
swamps so full of water that Sherman's men had to build 
a corduroy road through every swamp they came to, and 
also bridge the small streams. Almost an army of negroes 
were trying to keep up with the column, and when we came 
to a swamp or creek they had a hard time of it, but would 
wade through mud and water to keep up, for fear they 
would be left. At a stream where we crossed yesterday 
there was a small log across the stream, just below the 
bridge, and the darkeys were hurrying over it as fast as 
possible. Along came a big wench with two little darkeys, 
one under each arm, and started to cross. When about half 
way over, one of the little ones slipped out from under her 
arm and fell on the upper side of the log. The current 
sucked the body under the log, and that was the last that 



226 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

was seen of it. The old wench passed on with the other, 
and paid no attention to the lost one, nor did any of the 
others. This was the most heartless act I ever saw a mother 
do, white or black. 

March 7th. Our division marched about nine miles and 
camped on Crooked Creek, about five miles from the State 
line, between North and South Carolina. 

March 8th. We marched about twelve miles to-day in 
the rain. Roads terrible. Here we passed into the State 
of North Carolina, near Laurel Hill. Am feeling somewhat 
better to-day. While at lunch to-day with General John 
A. Logan and staff, and General John E. Smith, at the top 
of a hill, where there was a view in several directions for 
a distance of ten or fifteen miles, we could see the smoke 
curling up from burning buildings and cotton bales, the work 
of Sherman's army, devastating the whole country. It was 
a sight never to be forgotten. Seldom had we a chance to 
overlook so large a tract of country. Sherman's idea of 
war being ''hell" was fully illustrated in the scene before 
us. Many a once happy home succumbed to the flames in 
that forty-mile-wide path of Sherman's Army through the 
Carolinas. 

During the lunch a sergeant brought to General Logan 
a soldier under arrest, who was a good deal the worse for 
the good things he had indulged in. "What is this man 
under arrest for, sergeant?" asked Logan. "Disobedience 
of orders, sir." "No such a thing. Uncle Johnny," said the 
soldier, and continued talking. "Silence, sir !" said Logan, 
in a calm voice. "Relate the particulars, sergeant," said 
Logan, and the sergeant explained in a few words. "Let 
me shay a few words, Uncle Johnny," said the soldier. 
"Don't want to hear them," said Logan. "Take this man 



UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES AGAIN rS27 

} 
to his company and tell his captain to keep him with his 

company and on duty for a week at least before trusting" 
him on outside duty again." ''Thankee, Uncle Johnny," 
and they marched away, the soldier blubbering to the ser- 
geant, ''There, damn you, I told you Uncle Johnny wouldn't 
do anything to me. He knows I'm all right." No wonder 
that the men of Logan's corps almost worshipped their gen- 
eral. He did not censure them, but when he called upon 
them to act they were ever ready to obey the man they 
loved. To me this little episode was very interesting, and 
I thought more of the general ever afterward. 

We marched on the 9th to Lumber Creek, and crossed it 
after dark, in a drizzling rain storm. Roads were in hor- 
rible condition and almost impassable. Headquarters of di- 
vision were at the house of a noted secessionist, whose name 
was McMurchin. We found some very good-looking girls 
to-day on the march. The people were not so much fright- 
ened here in North Carolina as to leave their homes, as they 
did in South Carolina. The country through which we 
passed was thickly settled. Tom and I stopped at an old 
man's house to get out of the rain while the column was 
marching past, and found the owner sitting on his porch 
with the tears rolling down his cheeks. He told us that he 
had always been a Union man, and said he: "I told them 
it was all wrong to go out of the Union, and that they would 
come to grief if they did." Just then one of the boys from 
the column chased a pig under the porch, and it gave a ter- 
rible squeal as a bayonet was run through him, which cut 
off the old man's remarks rather short, and he jumped to 
his feet and cussed the boys in a tone far above the noise 
of the pig. "That is my last pig. The damned Secesh took 
all the rest day before yesterday; yes, and all of my stock, 



52^ ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

and every chicken on the place," and he dropped into hiS 
chair, sobbing as though his heart would break. 

Tom and I rode on for a mile, and came to a house where 
there were three women on the porch, two young ladies 
about eighteen or twenty years of age, and one elderly lady* 
The rain was pouring down, and without much ceremony 
we climbed the steps of the porch and introduced ourselves 
to the young ladies, who seemed not at all averse to our 
intrusion, and we were soon engaged in conversation with 
them. The girls were rather pretty, and quite jolly, and 
seemed quite friendly. Tom says to me : ''Well, Cap, hadn't 
we better be going? There's the rear of the column, and 
Pm ready as soon as this girl will give me a parting kiss." 
"All right, Tom," said I, "Pm ready, but I don't want to 
kiss my girl." And the reason was this. I had noticed that 
the one I was with often walked to the end of the porch 
to expectorate after "dipping snuff" a few moments before. 
It shocks one's sensibilities to see such a filthy habit indulged 
in by a woman. 

We were now forty miles from Fayetteville, N. C, at the 
head of navigation on the Cape Fear River. We saw Gen- 
eral Sherman several times to-day, and we had an idea 
that he was concentrating his army and marching all the 
corps to that point, which subsequently proved correct. 

March lOth. Roads very bad; so bad that the boys had 
to corduroy nearly the whole distance traveled. We made 
only five miles to Raft Creek, crossed it and camped. We 
found we were only nineteen miles from Fayetteville. We 
also learned that the Fourteenth and Sevententh corps are 
already there. 

March I2th. Sunday morning, weather fine. We camped 
last night at Nelson's P. O., N. C. To-day we are in camp 



.UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES AGAIN 229 

not far from Fayetteville, a town at that time of about thirty- 
five hundred. A very old place, but a very pleasant one. 
We found that General Dodge's dispatch boat from Wil- 
mington, N. C., had already arrived, so we concluded to 
visit General Sherman's headquarters, to see if we could 
get a chance to go down the river on the dispatch boat. We 
saw the general, and he told us that the boat would not go 
for a day or two, but he would see what he could do for us. 
So we rode back to camp and rested until the next day. 

March 13th. Went to town to-day and saw the general 
again, and he directed us to General O. O. Howard, who 
would arrange for our accommodation and give us trans- 
portation to Washington. General Howard told us to come 
the next day and he would give us a pass down the river, 
but could not vouch for transportation further. We decided 
to take the chances. We went back to camp again, stopped 
over night, and turned over our animals to the division quar- 
termaster. 

March 14th. Off for General Howard's headquarters for 
our pass, which we got about noon, and went aboard the 
dispatch boat John B. McDavidson, bound for Wilmington, 
N. C. She does not start until night, as there is danger of 
attack on our way down by renegades. We bid good-bye 
to Uncle Billy's grand army and started just at dark. There 
was no secure place on board the boat, and riflemen on shore 
could pick us off very easily. I took a look about the boat, 
and found a huge coil of a hawser near the bow, where 
there v/as just room enough for one man. I crawled inside 
the coil soon after we started, and was soon asleep, safe 
from any stray bullets from rebel skulkers along the shore. 

It was now just one month since I had escaped from 
prison, and what a month ! A month into which was crowded 



230 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

a seeming lifetime of hardship and suffering, joy and de- 
spair, dangers and happiness, anxieties and hairbreadth es- 
capes ; indeed, an experience to test my mental and physical 
powers to the utmost. I still wondered that I was alive and 
in possession of my faculties. I was much emaciated and 
worn out, but, all things considered, in a fair state of preser- 
vation. 

We arrived at Wilmington about five o'clock in the morn- 
ing of the 15th of March, where we secured transportation 
to Fortress Monroe on the propeller J. A. Green, that was to 
sail the next morning. Wilmington, at that time, was a Yan- 
kee soldier town, pure and simple. We went to the theatre 
in the evening to see the play, "Don Caesar de Bazan," and 
nine-tenths of the audience were soldiers and the balance 
"niggers." 

March 16, 1865. Left Wilmington at 6 a.m. Passed Fort 
Fisher at 10 a.m. In coming out of the harbor we saw sev- 
eral of the British blockade runners that had been sunk at 
different times while trying to get out or in. Once more 
I was on the briny deep, and before night the wind began 
to blow very fresh, and soon after dark had become a gale. 
The sea was terribly rough, and almost everybody was sea- 
sick. It was an awful night, but the good old ship weath- 
ered it out and rounded Cape Hatteras all right. On reach- 
ing Washington I resigned my commission in the army, 
received my pay, and started for home on the 5th of April. 

I found myself in New York City on the morning of April 
6th, and learned from the bulletins that Grant was pushing 
Lee at a terrible rate, and would no doubt soon capture his 
w^hole army. Uncle Abe was at the front, and Jeff Davis 
had left Richmond before I left Washington ; and one day, 
while there, I heard the Vice-President, Andy Johnson, make 



UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES AGAIN 231 

one of the most patriotic speeches on the steps of the Patent 
Office Building I ever heard. Johnson said: 'Tf I were 
President, I would have Jeff Davis caught, and I would hang 
him, hang him, hang him, higher than Haman !" 

I called on some of my old friends in New York, viz., 
W. A. Bodine, John Brown, J. C. Palmer, Geo. Mitchell, 
Capt. Geo. Vanderbilt, and many others. I replenished my 
wardrobe, and the next day I took the train for Elmira, 
N. Y. I spent the day there with friends, thence to Cort- 
land, and reached home in the town of Taylor, N. Y., April 
10, 1865, just three years and six months after I left to join 
the army. 

For some months previous to my return I was supposed 
to be dead. A newspaper was handed me containing my 
obituary, stating that I had died in prison in Charleston, 
S. C, and that this information had been furnished by Lieut. 
H. H. Call, who had just returned from that place. The 
editor gave me a good send-off, eulogizing me as a loyal and 
patriotic soldier that had worked his way up from a private 
soldier until he became captain of his company, and was 
taken prisoner in battle while leading his company at St. 
Mary's Church, June 24, 1864. 

The evidence seemed conclusive that I was among the 
victims of the terrible war. My father had sold my favorite 
horse, that I had sent home to keep for me, but fortunately 
to one of the neighbors, and I recovered it by returning the 
purchase price. 

I wrote a letter to Major A. D. Waters, of Cortland, N. Y., 
which was printed in one of the Cortland papers just before 
the Presidential election. Some of my Democratic friends 
declared it a forgery and claimed it was got up as an elec- 
tioneering article by Major Waters, who was on the Repub- 



232 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

lican ticket for district attorney. One of these friends pro- 
duced this letter and asked if I had written it, and if so, 
whether it was smuggled through in an old boot, as claimed. 
This is the way it was sent, as I then told him: Among 
our prisoners were a number of surgeons, and they were 
to be exchanged for an equal number of rebel surgeons. 
I was well acquainted with one of the former, and I got his 
consent to let me knock off the heel of one of his boots, scoop 
it out, put the letter in it, and nail on the heel again. He 
promised me to take it out and mail it at the first opportu- 
nity, and it was done as promised. 

The letter referred to above is as follows : 

WHAT A UNION PRISONER SAYS. 

We are permitted to make the following extracts from a 
letter written by Capt. B. B. Porter, of the Tenth N. Y. Cav- 
alry, written to A. D. Waters of this village. It was smug- 
gled through in an old boot. 

Charleston, S. C, Sept. 23rd, 1864. 

Friend Waters : 

You have heard, no doubt, before this, of my being a pris- 
oner of war in this dilapidated city of Charleston, S. C. I 
was captured the 24th day of June, at the battle of St. 
Mary's Church, Va. I was kept forty-eight hours without 
a mouthful to eat. As soon as I was taken I was stripped of 
hat, boots, all papers, and everything, even to my tooth 
brush. I was marched twenty-five miles barefoot, in the 
hot sand, with my feet covered with blisters and then thrown 
into Libby prison, at Richmond. I was there five days, then 
sent to Lynchburg, Va. I was marched from there to Dan- 
ville, seventy-two miles, and from there conveyed by rail to 



UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES AGAIN 233 

Macon, Ga., and confined there with sixteen hundred other 
officers, until the nth of August, when we were removed 
to this place, and placed under fire, where we now remain, 
with Foster's shells bursting and playing over and around 
the building, every five or ten minutes. Our rations are not 
sufficient, and those who are not fortunate enough to have 
any money, are almost constantly in a state of semi-starva- 
tiorL There are about two thousand officers, and about ten 
thousand enlisted men confined in this town. The con- 
dition of the enlisted men is horrible indeed, half fed and 
clothed, and no shelter. Sickness, of course, prevails to a 
great extent, and a large number die daily. Yet withal, 
nine-tenths of the men and officers keep up good spirits, 
with starvation staring them in the face and scarcely any 
hope of exchange or release from this living death. They 
wonder that there can be so much dissension among the 
people of the North where men, nay traitors are crying 
peace, peace ! just at a time when they should be more than 
ever united in a determination to crush the rebellion, by 
furnishing men and means to accomplish it. 

Old men and little boys are guarding us. All able-bodied 
men are in the field, and we have but them to overcome, and 
the rebellion is at an end. 

The whole South is completely under military control. 
Every man and boy is a soldier, not even cripples are 
exempt. 

Were the Northern people half as much in earnest as the 
people of the South, the rebellion would not last sixty days. 
Could the people of the North know the situation at the 
South I believe they would not hesitate a moment to fill up 
our armies, furnish the funds, re-elect Abraham Lincoln. I 
hope and believe that with our lat^ victories at Mobile, 



234 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

Atlanta and Winchester, a new war spirit will spring up 
that will crush the last vestige of the traitorous hordes that 
now confront our gallant and victorious armies, and the 
long looked for and only lasting day of peace will soon come, 
but by any other means peace will never come. 

The following officers are prisoners here, viz. : Lt. T. W. 
Johnson, Capt. D. Getman, Capt. A. T. Bliss, Lt. Morey, all 
of the Tenth N. Y. Cav. ; Lt. H. Call, Lt. Cahill, Lt. Myers, 
and a number of others of the 76th Regiment; Lt. Curtis, 
Lt. Powers, and Capt. Coffin of the 157th N. Y. Vol. All 
well. 

I am yours, 
Capt. B. B. Porter. 

When I verified the above letter my Democratic friend 
had no more to say, but let me have the copy for preserva- 
tion. 

During my career in the army I took part in twenty-six 
battles, as follows : 

1. Fredericksburg, Va., December 12 to 16, 1862. 

2. Louisa C. H., May 2, 1863. 

3. Brandy Station, June 9, 1863. 

4. Aldie, June 16, 1863. 

5. Middleburg, June 19, 1863. 

6. Ashby's Gap, June 17 to 22, 1863. 

7. Gettysburg, Pa., July 2 and 3, 1863. 

8. Shepherdstown, Va., July 16, 1863. 

9. Sulphur Springs, October 12, 1863. 

10. Little Auburn, Va., October 14, 1863. 

11. Bristoe Station, October 14, 1863. 



UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES AGAIN 235 

12. Mine Run, Va., November 29 to December 3, 1863. 

13. Todd's Tavern, Va., May 5 and 6, 1864. 

14. Wilderness, Va., May 7 and 8, 1864. 

15. Anderson's Ford. 

16. Beaver Dam Station, May 10, 1864. 

17. Ground Squirrel Church, May 11, 1864. 

18. Yellow Tavern, Va., May 11, 1864. 

19. Inside of fortifications, near Richmond, Va., May 12, 

1864. 

20. Mechanicsville, Va., May 13, 1864. 

21. Hawes' Shop, Va., May 28, 1864. 

22. Old Tavern, Va., May 30, 1864. 

23. Cold Harbor, Va., June i, 1864. 

24. Trevillian Station, Va., June 11 and 12, 1864. 

25. White House, Va., June 21 and 22, 1864. 

26. St. Mary's Church, Va., June 24, 1864, where I was 

taken prisoner. I was in many skirmishes where we 
had harder fighting than we had in some of the im- 
portant battles. 



CHAPTER XI. 

UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE. 

Over-indulgence of my appetite after reaching Sher- 
man's army had a bad effect on my system, no doubt, but 
I was slowly gaining, and as soon as I got my horse I took 
daily rides, which seemed to do me good. I confined my diet 
to milk, raw eggs, and fruit; in fact, I could eat nothing 
else ; but my appetite improved, and I felt encouraged. 

On the first day after my return I met an old chum of 
former days, and about the first words that he said were, 
"Porter, your girl is married." "How is that?" said I. 
And he related the circumstances. Although this is not a 
novel, there is a little romance connected with the above 
mentioned girl, Lieut. H. Call, and myself. When on vet- 
eran furlough, during the winter of '63 and '64, I went to 
see my best girl. She had been formerly Lieutenant Call's 
sweetheart, but a year or two before had discarded him. 
Having known her for a long time, I became quite attentive 
to her, and my afifection being fully reciprocated, we became 
engaged, with the understanding that we were to be mar- 
ried on my return from the army. Call, in some way, be- 
came aware of the fact. We were ostensibly good friends, 
and were both in the service. Call was taken prisoner at 
the battle of the Wilderness, about two months previous to 
my capture. Both were in the same prison together, but 
nothing was ever said between us about the girl. When he 

?^6 



UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 2'^y 

was attacked with the yellow fever at Charleston , and they 
were taking him to the hospital, I bid him good-bye, and 
wished him a speedy recovery. He was too sick to talk. 
That was the last I saw of Call. When we left Charleston 
and moved to Columbia, S. C, he was still in the hospital 
at Charleston, with many others. An exchange was ef- 
fected by our government and the rebels, by which our 
sick were sent home, and he recovered. He got a thirty 
day's furlough and went home. He had a notice put in 
the local papers that I was dead, and also informed my girl, 
and pressed his suit with vigor, telling her that he would 
marry her and take her with him to Washington when his 
furlough expired. His mother helped him hurry up mat- 
ters with the family, and the result was they were married. 
I knew nothing of this, of course, until I got home, but I 
took it as philosophically as I could, concluding that "all 
is fair in love and war," but decided to call on them and get 
my watch that I had left with her for safe keeping when we 
parted. So I drove to their neighborhood and stopped over 
night with a friend who knew of our engagement, and he 
gave me the full particulars. The next morning I drove 
up to their house and knocked at the door. Mrs. Call came 
to the door, and as soon as she saw me she gave a scream, 
and would have fallen to the floor had I not caught her and 
placed her in a chair, and got some water, which soon re- 
stored her to consciousness. Call was gone for the day, and 
she insisted upon my staying. From her I learned the de- 
ception he used to win her for his wife. From that day 
that household was not a happy one, but she lived but a year 
afterward. I got my watch and sadly returned home, a 
disappointed man, but not entirely crushed. That which 
cannot be cured must be endured. 



238 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

On my arrival home I learned of the assassination of our 
great and beloved President, Abraham Lincoln, and of the 
attempt on the life of the Secretary of State, Wm. H. Sew- 
ard. No calamity has ever befallen the nation that went 
so deeply to the hearts of the people. Every household in 
the land was a house of mourning. So wrought up were 
the feelings of the people that no one could even hint that 
it was right, but they were hustled off to close quarters to 
save their lives from an enraged people. Funeral services 
were held in every church in the land. It was a dark day 
for our nation. 

My health improved a little, and I was able to ride about 
the country and visit my old friends in Cortland and Che- 
nango counties. I bought a mate to my horse, and con- 
tented myself as well as I could in trying to get back to a 
normal condition ; but it seemed a yery slow process. 

M. M. Whitney, a member of the Seventy-sixth N. Y. 
Infantry, was home from the army, recovering from a 
wound, and together we traveled the country over, enjoying 
ourselves the best we could, but my poor health continued 
to be a handicap to all my plans and anticipations. It was 
now June 24th, just a year since I was taken prisoner, and 
what a year of events it had been to me ! 

When I stopped in New York on my way home, my old 
friend John Brown and his partner were carrying on a 
sign-painting business, and they offered me a third interest 
in the business if I would come down and do the outside 
soliciting for work. It was a good offer, but I told the boys 
that I could not accept it on account of my health ; as soon 
as I thought myself able to stand it, I would let them know, 
and if the offer was still open, I would accept it. 

During the month of June I had become acquainted with 



UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 239 

a young school teacher at Pitcher, Chenango County, a 
sister to the young lady whom M. M. Whitney was paying 
attention to, and the four of us conceived the idea of cele- 
brating the Fourth of July in an old-fashioned way. There 
was to be a grand celebration and parade at Cortland, N. Y., 
with Daniel Dickinson as speaker. On the morning of the 
Fourth we started out for Cortland with my span of horses 
and the best carriage we could find, and I joined the pro- 
cession riding the horse and using the same saddle and bridle 
that I had ridden in the army, and wearing my army uni- 
form. It was the only complete outfit that had been in active 
service, in the procession. While there I met Captain Mead, 
an old prison comrade, and he induced me to go to a dance 
that night at Moravia, his residence, where also several of 
the old boys of the Tenth Cavalry lived. Inside of an hour 
the four of us were on our way to Moravia, and were wel- 
comed with open arms by the boys of the Tenth Cavalry, and 
also by some of the Seventy-sixth Regiment. About one 
hundred couples had gathered at the largest hall in the 
place, and we had a delightful time. In the morning, after 
breakfast, we concluded to go to Auburn, N. Y. (my birth- 
place) and visit the State Prison. The weather was fine, 
and we all enjoyed the trip very much. At night we put 
up at Parmalee's Hotel, where I was well acquainted, and 
we were entertained in the best possible manner. The next 
morning, after visiting many places of interest, we started 
on the road for home, via Skaneateles and Skaneateles Lake, 
on the east side, through Bordino, and on to Scott, where 
we put up over night. The next day we started for home 
via Cortland and Cincinnatus, where we arrived safe and 
sound, making a good four days' celebration. We took with 
us well-filled lunch baskets, and when we got hungry we 



240 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

camped on the side of the road in a friendly shade and en- 
joyed our repast, picnic fashion, on the grass. Who could 
enjoy a Fourth of July better than two old soldiers that 
had just helped to save our glorious Union? Had we not 
earned it? It was our first peaceful Fourth of July since 
i860. Our partners, the ladies, enjoyed it immensely, too. 
Their names were Elizabeth Beasley and her sister, Elenor 
Beasley, both full of fun and life. Have never had so en- 
joyable a Fourth since. 

In a few days I got a letter from Captain Vanderbilt, re- 
questing me to come to New York at once, and I started 
July 8th. Van had a business proposition in which he wished 
me to join. It looked favorable to me, and we started for 
Baltimore the next day to investigate. We secured an option 
on the rights in the city and county of Baltimore for a 
patent soda fountain, then a great improvement on bottled 
soda water. We went back to New York, and studied the 
business carefully at a plant that was being operated in 
New York City, and the more I saw of it the more I liked 
the proposition. 

On the 14th of July I went to New Haven to see Aunt 
Bradley and other relatives who lived near there. My dear 
old aunt, who was 87 years of age, was very glad to see 
me, and to know that I had come through the war all right. 
It was the last time I ever saw her. She died when 88 years 
of age, retaining all her faculties very nearly to the end. 
After a short visit I returned to New York, and went home 
feeling considerably better. I arrived at Taylor July i8th, 
having been gone ten days. As my health improved I felt 
anxious to get into business, but wsts not yet in condition. 

July 28th. I went to Syracuse to see the old regiment 
once more before they were mustered out, as they were there 



UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 241 

for that purpose. I had a very happy meeting with the boys 
that composed the remnant of the old regiment. They were 
feehng good, and gave me a hearty welcome. Only old 
soldiers know what that means. As I bade each one good- 
bye, many a tear was seen on the cheeks of those old vet- 
erans, especially those of my old Company G, whose captain 
I was through many a hard fought battle. God bless them ! 
They were heroes all. I went back home feeling that I 
had closed the last act of the war as far as I was concerned. 

I had fully made up my mind to go into business with 
(Vanderbilt in Baltimore, and wrote him to that efifect. I 
was getting better all the while, and began to think about 
doing something toward marrying and settling down to the 
realities of life. I had enjoyed myself immensely since my 
return from the war, notwithstanding my ill health. Being 
naturally jovial, I could not do otherwise very well, and 
therefore took advantage of my present opportunities to 
make the best of them. On the 2d of August, 1865, during 
a ride by moonlight, I promised to marry Miss Elizabeth 
Beasley, of Pharsalia, Chenango County, but no time was 
set for the wadding. 

A few days after, I received a letter from Captain Van- 
derbilt, saying that he was ready to begin our enterprise. 
As we needed a man, I engaged M. M. Whitney, of Taylor, 
to go to Baltimore, while Van was to close the contract for 
that city, order generators, fountains, etc., and have them 
shipped, while I was on the way overland, accompanied by 
Whitney. I sent Vanderbilt five hundred dollars to com- 
mence business, and meet us on our arrival at Baltimore, Md. 
We had called on our best friends and bade them good-bye, 
and on Sunday, August 13th, drove to Binghamton and put 
up for the night. 



242 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

August 14th. Drove over the hills from Binghamton to 
Montrose, Pa., five miles beyond Tunkhannock, where we 
stayed over night with an old farmer. 

August 15th. Rather warm to-day, but we drove to Nan- 
ticoke, forty-three miles from our starting place. 

August 1 6th. Drove forty-four miles over one of the 
worst roads I ever traveled over, and reached Danville at 
sunset. 

August 17th. We made forty-three miles to-day, and 
stopped at Montgomery's Crossing. Our drive, thus far, 
had been very rough, except in the Wyoming Valley, which 
we went through on the 15th, passing the monument that 
marks the site of the massacre of 1778. It is a charming 
valley, surrounded by mountains, here and there picturesque 
old buildings, barns, and old orchards, with apple trees over 
one hundred years old. 

On the 1 8th we stopped at noon, five miles from Harris- 
burg, Pa., two hundred and thirty-five miles from our start- 
ing point, making an average of 47 miles a day. A short 
distance out of Harrisburg we drove up to a road house 
to water the horses. Two men came out and examined 
my horses rather closely, and we were asked if they were 
for sale. "Yes," said I. "What do you want for them?" 
asked one. "Seven hundred dollars," I answered. They 
said no more, jumped into a buggy, and drove away on the 
same road we were going. We caught them in about a mile 
and they motioned us to stop. We asked what was wanted, 
and found that one was a sheriff and the other a deputy. 
We were suspected of having a stolen team, but we soon 
convinced them of their mistake, and went on our way re- 
joicing. We stopped at Dillstown, Pa., that night, and I 
was up nearly all night with one of my horses, that was 



UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 243 

very sick; but he was better In the morning, and we drove 
on to Gettysburg, reaching there just at night, the 19th of 

August. ^ 

It being Saturday night, we concluded to stop over bun- 
day and take a look at the old battle field where we had 
both fought two years before. As our regiment was sta- 
tioned there during the winter of '61 and '62, I was quite 
well acquainted, and looked up a number of my old acquam- 
tances, among them Mary Weaver, Annie Garlach, Vina 
Werrick, and Maggie Pierce, besides several others. We 
visited the National Cemetery, and went to the spot where 
the Seventy-sixth Regiment fought, and many other parts 
of the battlefield. We made calls on many of the old fami- 
lies we used to know, making it altogether a very busy Sun- 
day with us, but we enjoyed it to the utmost. 

Mondav, August 21st. We started over the Baltimore 
pike for Baltimore, highly pleased with our visit, and pleased 
also that the day's rest had brought my sick horse back to 
a normal condition. The day was fine and the road good. 
We stopped at a little town that night where they had a 
dance, which we joined, and tripped the fantastic toe until 
the wee small hours of morning. 

Auo-ust 22d. We arrived in Baltimore In good shape, hav- 
ing had a most enjoyable trip. Found Vanderbilt awaiting 
us though he had arrived only the day before. We at once 
rented a building on President Street, near the Philadelphia, 
Baltimore & Wilmington Depot, for twenty-five dollars per 
month, and found a good place to board at a private house 
for all three of us. Our goods arrived, and we commenced 
business, though with not very flattering success ; but we had 
lots of work to do in getting ready. I felt satisfied that we 
had a good thing, and that we could make it pay. We dia 



244 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

not get ready to put in our first apparatus until the 7th 
of September, 1865. It was rather late in the season to 
begin the soda water business, but we thought if we could 
make expenses during the winter and increase our customers 
we could do a good business the next summer. On the 8th 
we got another customer, but our money was getting short, 
and it was necessary to obtain more cash capital. My 
health poor, with no p, aspects for money to keep up so soon 
after starting, was not a very glorious outlook, although 
our apparatus gave splendid satisfaction. I finally came 
to the conclusion that I had to raise some money if we kept 
the business going. Vanderbilt had no way of raising any, 
and I found that I had to form myself into a ways and 
means committee to get funds. I went to Washington, but 
failed there. I wrote to A. D. Waters of Cortland, and 
finally went to Cortland, and secured six hundred dollars. I 
then went to Genoa and saw my old friend Captain Pierce, 
and had a good visit with him. Saw my best girl, and vis- 
ited my father. Made arrangements to get married about 
New Year's, 1866. On my return to Baltimore I took the 
darky, Joseph Page, back with me to take care of the horses. 
Arriving in Baltimore, I found that the business had in- 
creased considerably, having gained several new customers, 
and our prospects looked brighter for business. About this 
time Van and I made M. M. Whitney an offer to go into 
partnership with us if he could raise a thousand dollars. He 
went home and raised the money, and that made us easy. 

Van went to New York to see his girl, and came back 
with a proposition to go into the plastic roofing business, 
which would not cost us much, and we concluded to take 
hold of it. Van was to run the roofing, and Whitney and 
myself were to run the soda business. 



UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 245 

The soda business was a little dull, but increasing. Every- 
thing went along very well up to Christmas, 1865. In those 
days the city of Baltimore seemed to go wild on that day. 
The whole city was drunk, it seemed to me. All private, 
as well as public houses, were open, with a full assortment 
of eatables and drinkables, free to everybody. I never saw 
a whole city drunk before. It was something new to us 
Northerners. 

The next day, December 26th, I started for New York 
to marry and bring my wife to Baltimore. I arrived at 
Taylor on the 28th, and went to Pharsalia, where my in- 
tended resided with her parents. On New Year's Eve. De- 
cember 31, 1865, I was married to Elizabeth Beasley at her 
home. We had a very quiet wedding, with only the family 
and two or three friends present. On New Year's Day, 
1866, we went to Smith vllle to see my father and brother, 
returning the next day, and left for Cortland the day after. 
From thence we went to New York, where we stopped over 
night, then went to see my relatives at New Haven and 
vicinity. It was bitter cold weather, and we nearly froze 
going from place to place, which made our visit much 
shorter than it would have been had the weather been pleas- 
ant. 

January loth. We arrived at Baltimore, and as I had a 
house all ready to go into, we were soon living as cosily 
as could be. I came across an old soldier from the West, 
Captain Hathaway, whom we hired for four hundred dol- 
lars a year, and we also borrowed a thousand dollars for a 
year from him at 7 per cent. Interest. Business seemed to 
pick up considerably, and everything looked favorable for 
a good year. Vanderbilt h3,d commenced to roof some build- 
ings, so that on the first of February our prospects looked 



246 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

i 

very bright. The effects of prison life still clung to me, 
and I had many poor spells, but soon recuperated, so that 
I was able to work most of the time. On the 3d of March 
I was thirty-four years old. My wife was twenty-four years 
of age on the nth of December preceding. 

About the middle of April, Vanderbilt went to New York 
and was married on the 17th, and brought his wife to Balti- 
more and went to housekeeping. We engaged Delos E. 
Landers, an old soldier of my company, to keep our books. 
He brought his wife to Baltimore, and we all boarded with 
him. Van was more extravagant than the rest of us, and 
drew out more money than Whitney and I combined ; con- 
sequently there was some feeling engendered as to the out- 
come. Expenses were increasing faster than the profits of 
the business. I said nothing, but saw that something must 
be done to keep the expenses down, in which Mr. Van did 
not agree; but our business continued to increase. I man- 
aged to keep our notes from going to protest, but it was a 
great struggle for me, as my partners seemed to be willing 
to let me shoulder the responsibility for the whole thing. 
Matters went along, but not very smoothly, until the 1st of 
August, when a note became due at the bank, and I had just 
money enough to meet it. Van's wife being in New York, 
he took it in his head to go after her, and without a word 
of notification to anyone went to the bank, drew out forty 
dollars, and left for New York. When I went to the bank 
to pay the note, the cashier informed me I was short forty 
dollars, Mr. Vanderbilt having drawn that amount the Sat- 
urday before. 

On his return I called upon him for repayment of the 
money, and there was trouble at once. I informed him that 
he must either buy me out or sell to me, and that the matter 



UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 247 

must be closed up within forty-eight hours. After some 
warm controversy he finally accepted my offer. He took 
over the roofing business, and I the interest in the soda foun- 
tain business, paying him for his services with the firm, and 
thus dissolved the partnership. This left Whitney and I 
as partners still, I with two-thirds and Whitney with one- 
third. This occurred on August 8th, the day that we had 
set for my wife to go home on a visit, and I did not let the 
difficultv 'interfere with this arrangement. On the 9th we 
drew up all papers, notes, and so forth, and made a com- 
plete settlement. The readjustment left Captain Hathaway 
out, and I settled with him, which left Landers, Whitney 
and mvself to carry on the soda business. Whitney and I 
drew up our writings, and we went ahead more satisfac- 
torily. Expenses were cut down, and we began to get a 
little monev ahead; in fact, the business began to prosper. 
About the '20th of August I had a letter from my wifes 
sister, Mrs. Julia E. Sage, who lived in or near Flint, Mich., 
saying that her husband was dead, and that she intended 
to come to Baltimore to reside with us as soon as she could 
settle up the estate. Her husband had been an officer m 
the Civil War, and he had left her an insurance policy on his 

life in her favor. 

August 23d. We arrived in Baltimore just one year ago 
this day, and on reviewing our situation concluded, under 
the circumstances, we had done very well. Though con- 
siderably in debt, we had our business well established and 
growing, and, all in all, we had no cause to complam. As 
the weather got cooler our business began to fall off, and we 
needed more monev. Notes came due and it was hard work 
to meet them. Our business was all right, but our capital 
was insufficient to keep it going; but somehow, and I can 



248 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

hardly tell how, we kept going, and kept the wolf from 
the door. This state of affairs continued till October 12th, 
when some money had to be raised, and I knew of no way 
except to go North and apply to my friends once more. 
I found my wife at her father's, in good health, then started 
out to find some money. I had rather poor success until 
I found my friend O. F. Forbes, from whom I obtained two 
hundred and fifty dollars for a year, which would tide us 
over for a time. After visiting my father at Smithville for 
a day, we started for Baltimore, where we arrived safe and 
sound, and glad to get back. Soon after our return I had 
to commence suit against my landlord — ^Jones by name — 
and we had quite an amusing trial before a justice of the 
peace. I was my own lawyer, and after a good deal of fun, 
and not much swearing, I won my suit, and Jones in turn 
sued me. I non-suited him, and that ended the affair. When 
I had lived in his house long enough to get my pay, I vacated 
it, and we were square. We then commenced keeping 
house over our place of business. Whitney had gone 
North, and I engaged D. E. Landers to work for us the 
next year for seven hundred dollars. We were looking for 
Lib's (my wife) sister to come and live with us. The busi- 
ness was fair. I was in tolerably good health, but hadn't 
got over the effects of my prison life ; my wife was in good 
health, and the prospects for business were very good. 

New Year's Day, 1867. I was married just one year ago 
last night. Since Vanderbilt left us we have got along 
very smoothly. Our capital is rather short, but we have 
got to make the best of it. Our credit is good, and we have 
not failed to meet our obligations so far. The business is 
slowly increasing, and our apparatus is taking first rate ; we 
ought to have a good season the coming summer. "Wq 



UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 249 

were busy most of the time getting ready for the opening 
of the season, which in Baltimore generally begins in March. 
On January 23d my wife's sister, Mrs. Julia E. Sage, ar- 
rived, and took up her residence with us. She brought some 
money with her, and I borrowed fifteen hundred dollars 
from her. , 

I closed up with Vanderbilt, and went to Philadelphia 
and settled with J. D. Lynde, of whom we bought the patent, 
and felt easy in regard to money matters. 

February 13th. I settled up with Captain Hathaway in 
full to-day ; also sent A. D. Waters the amount I owed him. 
Business is improving a little. Our little family are enjoying 
themselves, and all seem quite happy. 

March 3, 1867. To-day I am thirty-five years of age, and 
ought to be in first-class health, but army life was a little 
too much for me. As the spring opened the business im- 
proved. Customers increased and we were getting along 
very well, but for some reason there seemed to be a good 
deal of suppressed feeling on the part of Landers and Whit- 
ney toward me, yet no open rupture. They appeared to 
be anxious to crowd me out of the business in some way, 
but did not have the capital to back them. However, we 
had no row, and kept on '^sawing wood" as usual, and work- 
ing to make the business a success. 

August 8th. My wife and her sister went North to visit 
the old folks, and did not return till the nth of September, 
and soon after, Whitney and Landers boarded with us again 
and there was a little more cordiality in the firm. My wife 
and I took out a joint policy of insurance in favor of the 
survivor for twelve hundred dollars, and I also had my 
horses insured. 

We enjoyed ourselves every Sunday by taking a ride put 



250 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

into the country in various directions over the fine oyster- 
shell roads about Baltimore, for which that city is noted. 
The city had then a population of a little less than 300,000. 
It was famous for road houses, and soft-shell crabs at sum- 
mer resorts, where good dinners were a specialty. There 
Avere also many steamboat excursions down the bay to vari- 
ous dancing pavilions, bowling alleys, and amusements of 
all kinds. We managed to enjoy ourselves very much. Bal- 
timore has much fruit when in season, and peaches were 
very plentiful. We could buy fine ones that season for ten 
cents a basket. Fresh oysters, too, could be bought for 
twenty-five cents a gallon. I think Baltimore, at that time, 
was one of the cheapest places to live in the United States. 

When the business began to fall off in October, Whitney 
seemed to be discontented with his one-third of the busi- 
ness. So he offered to buy or sell, and wanted me to set a 
price. After a while he offered to sell his interest for three 
thousand dollars, I to pay all debts of the firm. So I set my 
price at six thousand two hundred and fifty dollars, and put 
in one of my horses, which heretofore had not been a part 
of the firm's property. I knew that Whitney had no way 
of raising the money, and I began to look about to see if I 
could arrange to buy him out. In the meantime we were 
trying to settle upon the terms, which we finally agreed upon, 
and I gave him two hundred dollars down, and notes run- 
ning thirty, sixty and ninety days, six months, one year, and 
the last note twenty-three months, so it made it quite easy 
to meet them if I could keep the business going profitably. 

November 21st. We closed up the bargain, and I owned 
the business alone, but owed six thousand dollars, which 
had to be got out of the business by my own exertions, which 
I felt equal to, provided I could keep my health. Some days 



UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 251 

before we made our bargain I had sent for Charley Beasley 
(my wife's brother) to come to Baltimore and work for me, 
and he got there November 19th. 

On the 23d M. M. Whitney went home, having cleared a 
couple of thousand dollars in fourteen months, which paid 
him very well. I soon went to Philadelphia to see Mr. Lynde 
about the price of the patent, and although he was a very 
close man in money matters, I got him to throw off a thou- 
sand dollars on the purchase price for the city and county 
of Baltimore and to claim no further royalty on sales. _ I 
gave him notes for the balance due on the purchase price, 
without interest. That was the first stroke of management 
after I had become proprietor. 

In December I went to see my father in Sm.thville, as 
well as to try to raise some money, or find where I could 
get some when I needed it, but did not meet with much 
success I got back to Baltimore the first day of January, 
1868 in time for a turkey dinner with my family, Landers 
and his wife, and Julia Rorapaugh, a sister of Landers wife, 
and we had a jolly time. All were former residents of Cort- 
land and Chenango counties, New York. A few days after 
mv return I received from A. D. Waters of Cortland money 
enough to carry me through the winter and meet all my 
obligations, and felt greatly relieved. I was taken sick soon 
after, and was unable to do anything for two weeks,_ but 
finallv got about again, though badly used up. The winter 
of sixtv-seven and sixty-eight was a very hard and cold one, 
the worst known for years, and in consequence the business 
was very dull. I made up my mind that I would find some- 
thing to make money at during the winter before another 
season rolled around. 
February 29th. Received news to-day from my brother, 



252 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

Wm. E. Porter, that my father died suddenly on the 25tH 
of February. I could hardly reaHze it. Peace to his ashes, 
God bless him! He was ever a kind father to me. I had 
been in hopes that he would be able to come and live with 
me, so I could raise him more comfortable than he was with 
my brother ; but alas ! he was gone. He was seventy-seven 
years of age. 

March 3d, my birthday, was one of the coldest days of 
the winter. Health and business poor, and I am worrying 
too much. I always feel good when I am well, no matter 
how things go, but when I am sick everything goes wrong ; 
but I am in hopes that my will power will carry me through 
all right. 

March and April were very cold months for Baltimore, but 
May came in all right, and business was pretty good. . A 
good many of the old soldier boys dropped in to see me, 
and we had some one on a visit to us most of the time. My 
health was somewhat better as the weather grew warmer, 
and we were able to resume our trips to the country and 
get a little fresh air and recreation every Sunday. We had 
made the acquaintance of a good many first-class people, 
and made many social calls. 

On June 20th I received a letter saying that my best 
and noblest friend and old schoolmate, John G. Pierce, 
died June 15, 1868. He was a man that, had he lived, would 
have made his mark in the world, for he had all the good 
and great elements of character, as well as marked ability 
far above the average. Words cannot express my feelings 
in regard to the loss, not only to me, but to all his friends 
and relatives. A more jovial or congenial companion I 
never knew. We loved one another. I enlisted with him 
for the war that w^ could be near each other during thQ 



UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 253 

time of clanger. He was a bold and fearless soldier, and 
all who knew him loved him. I could not suppress the 
tears as I read the letter containing the sad news. We were 
more than brothers. He was thoroughly educated, and fol- 
lowed the profession of law, and had already outstripped 
many a man much older than himself in his profession. He 
studied law with Mr. Ballard, Ex-Secretary of State, and I 
heard Mr. Ballard say that he was the brightest student 
he ever had in his office. Noble soul! Peace to him for 
ever and ever ! 

On the first of July I hired a man, John Buckley by name, 
who had been driving a wagon for a bottler. He brought 
me a good many new customers and increased my busi- 
ness considerably. He worked for me as long as I was in 
business in Baltimore, and was the best man I ever had. 
I don't think I ever lost a cent by him while he was work- 
ing for me. An honest man is surely the noblest work of 
God. I was meeting all my notes and obligations as fast 
as they became due, but it was uphill work, and sometimes 
I had to shake off the blues. When October came, I found 
myself a little short of money, and had to strike out for 
the North again to raise funds to meet some notes that 
would soon become due. It seemed like one continual hunt 
for money to keep going, but I had great hopes that the 
business would eventually get me out of debt all right, and 
I worked cheerfully on, though it was a great struggle and 
constant effort. 

In November, G. S. Hotchkiss came to see me, and was 
so well pleased with my increase of business that he pro- 
posed to go to work for me and put in a thousand dollars 
and call the business a joint stock concern on a capital of 
eight thousand dollars. I accepted the offer, and it carried 



254 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

me through the winter in good shape. Hotchkiss was to 
commence work for me in the spring. I had two hundred 
three-gallon cider kegs made, and commenced buying apples 
to make cider. I went to Harrisburg, Pa., and got a hand 
cider press, and started the cider business, which kept all 
hands busy up to New Year's. 

I decided to move into a larger place as soon as I could 
find one, and break up housekeeping and go to boarding. 
I finally found a good place that I could get possession of 
in February. 

New Year's Day, 1869. Getting along well, but business 
rather dull. Have got my new place fitted up nicely at 753^ 
Eastern Avenue, at the foot of High Street. 

We move about the 20th of February, and break up house- 
keeping. We have already gone to board with Sam de 
Haven. Am making more than expenses this winter, which 
is better than I have done any winter before. 

March 3, 1869. Am thirty-seven years old to-day. Have 
been to New York, and shall introduce the syphon bottle 
for mineral waters, the first introduced south of New York. 
Hope it will be a good feature. Hotchkiss will begin work 
to-morrow, March 15th. Prospects look flattering for a 
good season. 

The spring opened with fair business, and I put on three 
wagons and employed another man. Charley Beasley had 
to go home, and his brother Harvey came down to take his 
place, and put in five hundred dollars for a year, which 
made me easy again regarding money matters. I was get- 
ting some of my debts wiped out, and, on the whole, was 
getting along very well, though it seemed slow. I had got 
my business well in hand, and was running bottled stuff for 
shipment. Syphons with all kinds of mineral waters, and 



UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 255 

also charged fountains of wine, furnished seventeen kinds 
of syrups, and was fully equipped to run cider on an ex- 
tensive scale the next winter. 

July loth. Sent my wife North for her summer visit, 
and she did not come back until September 4th, well and 
hearty. Hardly think I will get out of debt this year, though 
I have gained on it considerably. We have changed our 
boarding place twice, but are now domesticated at Mrs. 
Noris', ^2 East Pratt Street. Bought a great many apples 
and made cider, which pays me first rate. Kept all my men 
at work to the middle of January, 1870. Shall keep them 
all through the year this year. Settled up with Hotchkiss. 
His thousand paid him 35 per cent., or three hundred and 
fifty dollars for the use of his thousand. 

It is now January 9, 1870, and I have concluded to sell 
out my business as soon as I can, on account of my health. 
I am a member of the American Fish Culturists' Society, 
and think of going into fish culture. Offer my business for 
eighteen thousand dollars, and it will be for sale until I can 
sell it out. 

May 1st. We went to board with Mrs. F. O. Hyzer, a 
noted spiritualistic medium. Am doing first rate now; in 
fact, my business has been good all summer, and it looks 
now as if I would get out of debt entirely by a year from 
now. My credit is first class and my health is somewhat 
better. Have got my business into working order. This 
past summer I put on the streets of Baltimore two of the 
finest delivery wagons in the city, and I am now furnishing 
eleven out of the thirteen first-class hotels of this city, all 
of the theatres, and three hundred of the first-class saloons, 
and my business is still growing, but it has been very hard 
work bringing it up to where it is at the present time. Busi- 



256 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

ness in those days was a very different proposition from 
what it is now (1902). There were no telephones or elec- 
tric cars, or even horse cars, except in the main streets. 
Over one-half of the business men of the city drove out of 
town every afternoon during the summer, and they ran 
things at a much slower pace than is done in the twentieth 
century. It took two hours by rail to get to Washington, 
D. C, from Baltimore, just forty miles, where the schedule 
time of the present day is forty-five minutes; and all New 
York and Washington trains were hauled by horses through 
Pratt Street from one depot to another; but I don't know 
that people are any happier now than then. 

January i, 1871. Business fair, and I keep all hands 
over winter. My health is as good now as it has been since 
I have been in Baltimore. Business matters are moving 
along quite comfortably, and I am still trying to sell out 
my business. 

March 3, 1871. Celebrated my birthday very quietly, this 
being my 39th. Settled up with Mrs. J. E. Sage, and gave 
her a new note for twelve hundred dollars. In May sent my 
wife North for the summer, and went to board at the U. S. 
Hotel on President Street. Had a very good summer. My 
wife returned in the early fall, in good health, and looked up 
a new boarding place. Owe but little now. 

December i, 1871. Expect to attend the American Fish 
Culturists' Association, which meets at Albany on the 7th 
of February, 1872. Am gathering all the information in 
regard to fish culture that I can, with the intention of en- 
gaging in the business as soon as I can dispose of my busi- 
ness here. I am now trying to find a good location with a 
good spring of water, suitable for the business. Have got 
old Joe Van Cleve, of Newark, N. J., to look over the coun- 



UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 257 

try in the vicinity of New York for a spring. My wife is 
delighted with the idea of leaving Baltimore, but we have 
to sell first. 

January i, 1872, opened rather cold. I had had a very 
good winter's sales, but they would soon fall off after the 
first of the year. I was getting pretty well out of debt and 
had a working bank account. 

February 7th found me in Albany, N. Y., in attendance at 
the Fish Culturists' Convention. There were only twenty 
of us altogether. This was the first regular meeting of the 
association in the United States, and was composed of such 
men as Ex-Governor Horatio Seymour, Seth Green, Geo. 
Sheppard Page, Fred Mather, A. S. Collins, and two or 
three others of New York ; Livingstone Stone, of New 
Hampshire ; Bowles, of the Springfield Republican, Spring- 
field, Mass.; Dr. Slack, of New Jersey. 

There were many interesting papers read, and about twen- 
ty new members enrolled. I came away from that meeting 
fully resolved to engage in fish culture, more particularly 
trout culture, as soon as I could sell out my business and 
find a suitable location for the purpose. Through the sole 
efforts of Geo. S. Page, one of the best men I ever knew, 
an appropriation of fifteen thousand dollars was obtained 
from the U. S. Congress for the establishment of a fish com- 
mission, with Mr. Spencer T. Baird for commissioner, and 
from that time to the present day, 1902, the Fish Commis- 
sion of the United States has been one of the best institu- 
tions of our Government. To R. B. Roosevelt, of New York, 
for his devotion to the cause as president of the association 
for several years, the people of the United States are deeply 
indebted. Had it not been for that gathering of kindred 
spirits in a little bedroom in the Globe Hotel, of Albany, in 



^58 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

February, 1872, our inland streams would hardly pay to 
even attempt to catch a mess of fish. The Pacific Coast 
would not have striped bass, catfish, and many other kinds 
of fish now seen daily in the markets there. The salmon 
rivers would long ago have been depleted, and trout streams 
would long ago have been among the ''has beens." I feel 
it an honor to have been one who, in a feeble way, helped 
to bring forth such grand results. 

Soon after my return to Baltimore I visited different fish 
culture establishments to learn what I needed to establish 
a fish farm, among them Seth Green's fish ponds at Roches- 
ter, N. Y., where A. S. Collins had charge ; Dr. Slack's 
place in New Jersey, M. H. Christler's at Kinderhook, N. Y., 
and a little town in the center of Pennsylvania. About 
this time Van Cleve wrote me that he had two or three 
places in view, and wished me to come and look at them. 
We rode two or three days without finding anything satis- 
factory, and I was getting discouraged about finding a suit- 
able place near New York, but late in the afternoon, on our 
way back to Newark, we discovered a stream that appar- 
ently came from a spring, and stopped to examine it. We 
followed it up a few hundred feet to its head, and found 
a spring flowing at the rate of thirteen hundred gallons 
a minute, and the water about the right temperature. It 
was the best spring I had seen anywhere for the purpose. 
The question now was, "could we buy the property?" Van 
Cleve knew the parties who owned it, and said that he would 
find out in a few days and let me know. There was a spring 
at Leesburg, Va., that I had heard of, and I wished to see 
that before I made any arrangements to buy the one that 
we had found. So I told Van to wait till I went down there 
to investigate, and that I would let him know at the earliest 



UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 259 

moment. Soon after going back to Baltimore I made a trip 
to Leesburg, Va., to see the great spring I had heard so 
much about. It is a few miles north of Leesburg, and I got 
a horse at the sleepy old town, and a guide, and drove out 
to see it. It was a large spring, and had a large flow of 
water, perhaps larger than the one in New Jersey, but I 
found the temperature altogether too warm for trout, but 
all right for raising carp. When I got home I wrote to Van 
Cleve to secure the spring in Franklin Township, New Jer- 
sey, at as reasonable terms as possible. The property had 
to be bought from two different parties, and it was some 
time before I could arrange matters satisfactorily ; but finally 
I got it, and was highly elated over it. 

The next thing was to sell my business in Baltimore. I 
advertised, but found no buyer. As spring came on the 
business increased rapidly, and soon got me out of debt, 
and 1 paid a good sum on the land I had bought in Jersey. 
The summer of 1872 was the hottest known for years, con- 
sequently increased my business without any increase of 
expenses, and I made money fast. On the fifth of June I 
lost my favorite horse, which died suddenly. He was a 
splendid animal, and I could have sold him for seven hun- 
dred dollars, but as he had carried me safely through the 
celebrated Stoneman raid and several hard fought battles 
during the war. I would not part with him at any price. 
I would make him lie down flat on the ground, then place 
my head on his neck and go to sleep. He would not stir 
tilJ I raised my head, when he would be on his feet in an 
instant. I could lie down on the ground and go to sleep at 
any time, with the bridle reins over my arm, and he would 
never disturb or step on me, though he would tramp about 
the length of the reins, but never pull on them to wake me 



26o ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

up. If ever I lOved an animal, I loved this horse, and it 
sorely grieved me to lose him. 

I sent my wife home on a visit, July i8th, accompanying 
her as far as New York City, where I had business. I vis- 
ited my spring with Mr. Hopper and Van Cleve, and tried 
to sell my Baltimore interests to Mr. Hopper for his son, 
whom he wished to start in a good business. He came down 
to Baltimore from Paterson, N. J., where he lived, to look 
the matter over with his son, but we didn't make a trade. 

By the middle of August I had paid two thousand 
three hundred dollars on my spring property, and gave a 
mortgage on the balance of thirteen hundred dollars, to run 
as long as I wished; interest payable semi-annually. 

September 19th. Went after my wife, and to make a 
short visit in York State. My health was better than it had 
been for some time, notwithstanding I had been working 
hard all summer. While I was gone, Van Cleve and I 
bought eleven acres more of land adjoining the spring prop- 
erty, for speculation. 

Back to Baltimore, September 28th. Have been unable 
to sell up to the present time, but the business is paying 
well, and I am running it for all it is worth. In October, 
Van Cleve and I made a trip to visit several fish hatcheries, 
where they had begun taking spawn, and I learned so much 
that I was satisfied I could carry the business to success. 

As winter came on I did not relax my efforts in pushing 
my business while trying to sell it. On the first of January, 
1873, I found by my books that I had sold thirty-five thou- 
sand dollars worth of soda, syrups, mineral waters, cider, 
etc., for the past year, with a net profit of ten thousand dol- 
lars. My main competition was the firm of Williams & Son. 
The bottlers did not disturb me, for I had secured all their 



UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 261 

best customers. As I was atixious to dispose oijV?^^^ 
I concluded to see Mr. Williams and offer to sell to hm^ 
At first he laughed at me, as he thought that I was not domg 
half the business he was. After several v,s>ts to h"" ^ J"* 
him to come down and examine my books. He at once 
became interested, and began to make =7«/!>surd offers 
but I would not drop much on the pnce I had set, and he 
began to raise a little, and on St. Patrick's Day, March 17th, 
we came together and the bargain was made. 

Williams and his son-in-law were to pay me fourteen 
thousand dollars, half down, and the balance on notes of a 
thousand dollars each, every three months, I to retain one 
horse and the debts due, which were over one thousand dol- 
lars, making over fifteen thousand dollars for *« busine . 
It was a good sale, and I got my pay w.&out much trouble. 
On the seventh of April, 1873, I left Baltimore for Cort- 
land N Y., with my horse, on the train as far as Bing- 
hamton, and rode him from there to Cordand, where my 
wife awaited me. At Cortland I bought a wagon and har- 
ness, and my wife and I drove to the town of Pharsaha 
where her parents lived, and leaving her there I star ed 
for New York. I visited all the fish establishments in he 
New England States as far north as Dixfield, Me , on the 
Androscoggin River. I first went to Springfield, Mass., and 
saw B. F. Boles, and learned where there were trout ponds 
on the west side of the Connecticut River ; visited them but 
learned very little. From thence I went to Bellows Falls, 
Vt then by rail to L. Stone's place on the New Hampshire 
«ide of the river, and saw something worth seeing at his 
place Mr. Stone was not at home, but the woman m 
charge gave me much information which was very valuable 
tome From thence I crossed the State of New Hampshire 



262 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

into Maine. I took the railroad from Portland north that 
went to Farmington, and stopped at a little town by the 
name of Wilton. From this point I had to drive over to 
Dixfield, ten miles, to see Mr. Stanley, one of the fish com- 
missioners of the State, who was engaged in raising trout. 
I left the little town of Wilton about 4 p.m. to drive over 
but soon encountered huge snow drifts, and for several miles 
had to walk the horse until I reached the banks of the Andro- 
scoggin River. Consequently I did not reach Dixfield until 
about ten o'clock at night. It was a cold, freezing night, 
and I was chilled through when I reached the hotel of the 
place, where a feeble light was glimmering from one of the 
windows. I soon aroused the landlord, and he showed me 
the way into the bar-room, where an open fireplace held 
a few dying embers that shed forth a sickly amount of light 
and heat, and a solitary old man of fifty or sixty years of 
age sat hovering over them. He made room for me, and 
while the landlord was taking care of my horse he opened 
upon me in true Yankee spirit a flood of questions as to my 
business, where I was from, where I was going, etc., etc., 
while I, shivering with the cold, was trying to get warm, 
and answering him in monosyllables. Finally the landlord 
came in and put on a few chips which nearly put the fire 
out, and asked if I wanted supper. I told him no, but if he 
had a little good whiskey or brandy I would like a drink to 
warm me up. He says: **I am very sorry, but you know 
the Maine law is in force, and they don't allow us to sell or 
give away liquors of any kind." I got up and turned about, 
and tried my best to get warm, but could not. Pretty soon, 
as I sat brooding over my forlorn situation, the old gent 
spoken of ^ot up and stretched, "Wall," said he, "I guess 



UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 263 

I'll eo home." Then with a "Good-night, stranger," he 
p he' out and down the steps to the street. He had^ot 
gone ten steps when the landlord jumped out w^h a hghted 
fallow candle in his hand, touched me on he fjoulder and 
n^otioned me to follow him. "What for? ^-^'^J- J^^t 
with me," he replied, in a whisper, and, ' smelhng a mous 
I went He led me to a door in the hall "tider the stairs 
hit Id down to the cellar. "Don't be afra.d," he sa^ 
"follow me." And I followed. When we reached the bot- 
tom of the stairs he struck out straight across the cellar for 
alne wall, and when he reached it, placed his hand upon 
one of the stones, when a door flew open as though a part o 
the wall had caved in. He stepped into a large ■"oom, with 
a able in the center, upon which were bottles of al kinds 
of liquors, a pail of water, and several tu-Mers. I stood 
for an instant in astonishment. On three sides of he apart 
n.ent, barrels of all kinds of liquors, piled three or jour h^g- 
lined the room. Pointing to the table, he asked, What 
will ve have?" "Some good whiskey," I said, and I got 1 , 
paid' for it, and asked the old gentleman to take a drink 
Uich he did not hesitate to do; and we went «Pf' ^=. ^^^ 
fire was better, and seemed to warm me easier than before, 
and I soon felt quite comfortable. 

Said I- "Landlord, how is it that you have a room fuU 
of liquor, and a stranger like myself cannot get a drmk 
01 uquui, „,„,?" "Wall I'll tell ve. You see, 

even for medicmal purposes? Wall, 1 n teii > 
we have a prohibition law and we have to lay m a stock dur- 
Tng the winter and haul it from the railroad when there is 
good sleighing, and in the dead of night, and store it away 
lefore day. It all comes in crockery crates, each barre 
'.tked -Crockery'; and you see, I've iust laid in a years 
stock." After some further conversation I went to bed, and 



264 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

when I came downstairs in the morning the landlord met 
me at the bottom of the stairs, and with his thumb thrown 
over his shoulder in the direction of the cellar door, think- 
ing, of course, I would want a drink before breakfast. *'Oh 
no," said I, "I never drink before breakfast." The old 
man, somewhat crestfallen, I thought, said: "Walk in to 
breakfast." I had a good meal, and learning where I could 
find Mr. Stanley, I started up the street, but had gone only 
a short distance when I was hailed from the other side 
by the man I had met at the hotel the night before. I 
stopped, and he came over to tell me how sorry he was for 
me the night before when I could not get a drink, and asked 
me if I wouldn't step over to his house and take a drink 
with him. I thanked him, and went on up to Stanley's 
store. Mr. Stanley seemed to be the leading man of the 
town. He kept the post office, a drug store, groceries, dry 
goods, and a little of everything, and was, besides, the land- 
lord told me, the leading temperance man of the place. 
Said I to Mr. Stanley, "You have a very dry town here." 
"Why ?" said he. "Well, I got to your hotel down the street 
last night at ten o'clock, nearly frozen, and could not get a 
drop of anything to warm me up." "Why," he says, "you 
ought to have come up here; I could have given you some- 
thing. I have plenty of it on hand." 

After visiting Mr. Stanley's place, where he was hatching 
and raising some fine Rangeley Lake trout, he directed me 
to a place about a mile out of town where there was a fine 
pond of trout that I ought to see. So I had my horse hitched 
up, and got a fellow about the village to pilot me to the 
place. As soon as I got there I made my business known, 
and said that I came at the suggestion of Mr. Stanley. He 
immediately asked me into his house, and, quicker than I 



UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 265 

can tell it, had decanters and glasses placed before me, and 
insisted that 1 should take a drink with him. We saw his 
fish, and on my return to the hotel I quizzed my companion 
about the prohibition law, and he told me that every resi- 
dent in the town, or nearly every one, was provided with 
some kind of liquor, and that there was twice as much liquor 
drank as there was before the prohibition law went into 
force. Prohibition did not seem to prohibit in the State of 
Maine at that time. 

I left some orders with Mr. Stanley for some Rangeley 
Lake trout, and then went to Boston, and from thence to 
Plymouth, Mass., where I made arrangements for some large 
trout. I then went back to New York, and Paterson, where 
I got out some specifications for a house, and also made a 
contract for a hatching house, to be completed within thirty 
days. I had three firms to figure on the contract for a 
house, w^hich I intended for a permanent home. I had al- 
ready drawn a plan for a house before I had left the city of 
Baltimore, and the architects did not change the plan, except 
in minor details. One firm figured at ten thousand for the 
house, another at nine thousand three hundred, and the low- 
est at eight thousand five hundred. After getting everything 
under way, I went back to Cortland and Chenango counties 
for my horse, dog and gun, and wagon, about the middle 
of May. I found everything all right, and on the 226. of 
May I loaded my trunk, dog and gun into the wagon and 
started across the country for Oakland Station, on the Jersey 
Midland Railroad (now Ontario & Western), Franklin 
Township, Bergen County, New Jersey, 225 miles from 
Pharsalia, N. Y. I drove there in five days without acci- 
dent or mishap. My horse, a fine black Morgan, made the 
trip easily, I had my fishing tackle with me, and caught a 



2(£ ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

fine mess of trout from the Beaverkill Creek when I stopped 
one night at a Httle town on its banks. 

Before I left Oakland I had secured a boarding place 
with a family by the name of Spear. My hatching house 
had been completed. While at the little town of Wilton I 
ran across a boy who found me a fishing tackle and guided 
me to a creek where, he said, there were plenty of trout; 
and we started out to enjoy my favorite pastime. I caught 
only four or five, but took a great fancy to the boy who 
went with me, a lad of about twelve summers, and, as I 
thought, very bright. I asked him how he would like to 
go home with me. He said he would go if his mother was 
willing. So I went to see his mother, a widow woman. 
After considerable conversation she said that she would let 
him go, but could not get him ready to go with me then, 
but would send him a month or so later. He was to live 
with me until he was twenty-one, and I was to send him 
to school for a certain length of time each year, and give 
him a certain amount of money when he came to be twenty- 
one years of age, providing that at the end of a year he was 
satisfied to stay or that I was willing to keep him. His 
name was Charles L. Waugh. On the eighteenth of June, 
1873, he reached me at Oakland, and stayed with me for 
several months. We liked him very much, and he seemed 
to think a great deal of us, but he got homesick and wanted 
to go home. I told him I would send him home on a visit 
the next year, but he got so despondent that I took him to 
New York and put him on the train, with a ticket for his 
home, and have never heard from him since, except a note 
from his mother that he arrived home safely. I went out 
of the adoption business after that experiment. 

As my hatching house was fitted up for living in, with 



UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 267 

three rooms, closets, etc., I wrote to one of my old comrades 
of the war who had worked for me at Baltimore for a couple 
of years, and who had a wife, but no children, asking him 
if he and his wife would come and work for me, at a certain 
figure per month, or so much per year. His answer was 
that he would accept my offer and come at once if I was 
ready for them. I wrote him to come. He was an English- 
man, and his wife an Englishwoman. His name was James 
Harrison, and he had been a sergeant in the British army. 
In a few days he was fully established in the hatching house, 
and I a boarder, with the boy. My house was being 
rapidly built, and my wife was living at Cortland until it 
was completed. I had a barn built also, that was finished 
on the Fourth of July. I had already several ponds made, 
and a considerable number of trout in them, caught from 
nearby streams, and they were doing finely. I made a trip 
to Cortland, N. Y., to see my wife and get the agency for 
a platform spring wagon that was then being manufactured 
in Cortland. I secured the agency and made arrangements 
for my wife to come down as soon as the house was ready. 
In the meantime my health was pretty good, the outdoor 
work agreeing with me better than had the indoor work 
at Baltimore. About the first of October my wife came 
down, and on her arrival seemed much disappointed with 
almost everything, but had to make the best of it. We fur- 
nished the house in good style, and soon got to living all 
right, and she seemed to be more contented. I sent for her 
father and mother to come and spend the winter with us, 
and after that my wife was well contented. We had a fine 
house, with all modern conveniences, hot and cold water 
for kitchen and bathroom, and gas. I also had a model barn, 
though not large, which cost me fifteen hundred dollars, 



268 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

The hatchery house cost twelve hundred dollars, and the 
total amount for the buildings that I had placed on the farm 
reached twelve thousand dollars. I had 23 acres of land, 
all free and clear, with money in the bank, several hundred 
trout in the ponds for breeding purposes, and others being 
added as fast as possible. I had hatching troughs for over 
two hundred thousand eggs, and all sorts of tools and uten- 
sils for farming and fish-raising purposes, a spring of water 
that flowed thirteen hundred gallons of water per minute, 
with a temperature of 52 degrees in summer and 53 degrees 
in winter, just right for trout culture. The situation was 
such that there was no danger from floods, and the flow 
never varied during the worst drought or the heaviest rains. 
I had orders for spawn and small fry greater than I could 
furnish with my facilities at that time, and everything was 
running smoothly. 

This was my condition when the panic of 1873 burst upon 
the country and sounded the death knell of thousands upon 
thousands of small fortunes as well as large ones. At first, 
many people thought it would soon blow over and times 
would improve ; but alas ! the situation became worse and 
worse; banks tumbled, property went down, and kept on 
going down. Ruin stared hundreds of thousands in the 
face, yet many did not seem to realize it. I, for one, felt the 
weight of depression strike me when I read the list of banks 
all over the country that had closed their doors. On read- 
ing the terrible news of the panic, I remarked to my wife 
that we would see the worst times we ever had seen before 
it was over. **Why," she said, ''what need we care? We 
don't owe anything." *'Well," said I, "you'll see;" and we 
did. 

The bottom seemed to fall out of everything. Van Cleve, 



UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 269 

with whom I had been more or less interested, and who 
had something Hke seventy-five or eighty thousand dollars* 
worth of property in his hands at the time, went down in 
the crash, and to save myself I had to buy out his interest 
with money I had in reserve. This crippled me very much, 
but I was clear of him. Things looked pretty blue, but I 
did not get despondent. I pushed my business as hard as 
I could, added more ponds, bought fish, and kept on as 
though nothing had happened. The sporting clubs of New 
York, with whom I had contracts to furnish fish for their 
preserves, nearly all failed, and their places went down. 
Improvements stopped, and they cancelled their orders, or 
reduced them. 

I was a good deal discouraged, and finally advertised my 
place for sale through the columns of Forest and Stream, 
of which Charley Hallock was then editor. He came over 
and inspected the place, and told me he would do all he 
could to help me sell it. But it was no use ; times were get- 
ting worse. I kept on increasing my stock and disposing of 
it as fast as I could, but to keep going it was necessary to 
have money. On March 14th, 1874, I secured a loan of four 
thousand dollars on my property, and decided to push the 
business to the utmost. Harrison stayed with me for nine 
months, when he got a chance to do better in Baltimore, and 
went back there. In the fall of 1873, when the trout began 
to run up the various streams in the vicinity of my place, 
we secured a large number of them, which added to our 
stock not only the fish, but many thousands of eggs. In 
the spring of 1874 I put out in the ponds eighteen thousand 
small fry. I had enough large fish in six or eight ponds 
to make a fine showing, and as my place had become famous, 
we had a large number of visitors. These came, not only; 



^^0 ONE OF THIS PEOPLE 

from the surrounding country, but from Europe and almost 
every State in the Union. I sold a limited number of fish 
from the ponds at a dollar a pound, with the privilege of 
taking them with hook and line, which was rather tame 
sport, as they had become domesticated^ and it needed no 
strategy to coax them to the bait. 

The name I gave my place was "The Crystal Spring Fish 
Farm," and at that time it had the name of being one of 
the finest plants for trout raising in the United States. One 
of the most distinguished visitors that I ever had from 
Europe was the honorable secretary to the Pope at Rome. 
He was a cousin of Mrs. Price, the wife of Ex-Governor 
R. M. Price, of New Jersey. As he was much interested 
in fish culture, the governor brought him over to see my 
place. He seemed to be well posted on the subject, and 
questioned me closely on all points in the process, especially 
on the taking of spawn. It being the time of year for the 
operation, I caught some fish and went through the process, 
in which he was much interested. He and the governor 
spent several hours with me, and after a glass of wine and 
other refreshments left, saying it was the most interesting 
visit he had made since he came to America. He afterward, 
through the governor, sent me his compliments, and re- 
gretted that his time was so limited that he could not call 
again. The old governor said he told him, after he had left 
my place, that I was the best posted in the business of any 
man he had ever met. 

During the fall of 1874 I secured a number of fine trout 
from the streams in that part of the country and saved many 
thousands of eggs from them during the spawning season. 

In the summer of 1874 I received from Mr. Stanley, of 
Dixfield, Me., three large Rangeley Lake trout, two males 



UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 271 

and one female. One of the males weighed a Httle over six 
pounds when they arrived? The female weighed over three 
pounds, and I got thirteen hundred eggs from her. I suc- 
ceeded in hatching about eleven hundred of them and turned 
out into the pond over eight hundred fry. I kept them 
separate from the others, and when they were two years 
old took over sixteen thousand eggs from them ; but they 
did not hatch as well as the native trout eggs. They were 
at least from one-third to one-half larger than any other 
trout I had at the same age. One of the large males got blind, 
and I fed him from the end of a stick for months. The other 
male did finely, and was, no doubt, the largest trout in the 
State ; but in the winter a sneak thief stole him. Then the 
female became blind and died, and the other male wasted 
away to a skeleton and died. The raising of fish was the 
most fascinating business I ever engaged in, and I never 
tired of caring for them. 

During the winter of 1874 and 1875 ^ sold a good many 
trout and small fry for stocking purposes, and did fairly 
well. I also had fifty thousand Rangeley Lake trout spawn 
to hatch for Geo. S. Page, to stock a stream near his home 
at Stanley, N. J. I also furnished Joseph Jefferson, the 
actor, five hundred two-year-olds for his fish ponds at his 
home, above Hackensack, besides five thousand small fry 
to put in the same ponds. That year I took two thousand 
yearlings and two-year-olds and put them in the Beaverkill, 
up in "New York, for a club of sporting men. I furnished 
some private ponds with large trout, above Yonkers, east 
of the Hudson River. I added more ponds to my place and 
turned out a large number of small fry. In the fall, my 
cousin, Mrs. J. A. Lum, of New Orleans, came to see me, 
and was very enthusiastic over my place. She wanted me 



2^2 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

to sell an interest in the business to her brother, Fred E. 
Castle, who lived near New Haven, Conn. We finally made 
a bargain, and she paid me a thousand dollars down, and 
was to pay me another thousand after Fred had got moved 
and settled with me. 

He came on with his wife and three children, and for 
several months seemed satisfied. Then he got tired of the 
business, and on account of the hard times Mrs. Lum could 
not, or did not, furnish the balance of the money to carry 
out the contract. With the money she was to furnish I 
proposed to make the place a summer resort for picnics, 
and charge an admission fee. I went to work in good faith, 
and built a pavilion for dancing purposes, and got the place 
partially fenced, but the money failed to come, and the 
scheme fell through. Fred moved away, and the whole 
thing was a dead loss to us. So I had to fall back on my 
own resources. Times were hard, and getting worse, but 
I kept on doing the best I could and increasing my stock. 
Property was decreasing in value all the while, and money 
was hard to get. 

Everything looked very blue in the fall of 1875. I was 
engaged in getting ready to open the grounds in the spring, 
but when spring came times were worse than ever, and 
Mrs. Lum did not, or could not, hold to our agreement. 
Castle had gone, and I was alone. Through my friend, Will- 
iam Ransley, of Pompton, who kept the hotel at that place, 
I got a German by the name of Joseph Turner to work 
for me. He could speak hardly a word of English, but I 
found him ready and willing to learn, and very industrious. 
The first month he was with me I got discouraged because 
I could not make him understand, and would have dis- 
charged him, but could find no one to fill his place. I had 



UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 273 

to keep him, tlierefore, but before the end of three months 
he had improved so much that I should have been sorry 
to part with him. He continued to work for me as long" 
as I stayed in New Jersey. 

During the summer of 1875 we secured all the trout pos- 
sible from the various trout streams of the Ramapo Moun- 
tains and surrounding country. I had one pond of salmon, 
which grew rapidly, but it was hard to keep them in the 
pond, for the reason that they were continually jumping 
for flies, and would go clear over the banks. I lost a great 
many in this way. In the fall of 1875 I had several hun- 
dred thousand eggs in the hatching house but the orders 
had fallen of¥. Times were getting worse, rather than bet- 
ter. It was now three years since the hard times began, 
and no improvement yet, and no signs of any. The year 
before some parties came over to look at my fish farm, with 
a view of buying. They seemed to be well satisfied with 
it and asked my price, which I put at thirty thousand dol- 
lars. It was a couple of weeks before they returned. In 
the meantime I learned that they were looking at a place 
up the Hudson River, above Nyack, which comprised more 
land than I had but was about the same distance from New 
York. I learned also there was seventy tons of hay to go 
with the place up the Hudson, and it seemed that the hay 
was the difference between the two places. However, when 
they came back they offered me twenty-four thousand dol- 
lars, cash down, which I refused, and they bought the place 
up the river. That was a great mistake, but I thought with 
everybody else that the panic would not last long, and I 
could make the place worth fifty thousand dollars. Instead 
of improving, the times grew worse, and property, espe- 
cially in that section of the country where I lived, went 



274 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

down to almost nothing, ruining many a man as well as 
myself. Up to that time I had spent twenty-two thousand 
dollars on the place. 

Nothing of moment occurred during the year of 1876, 
except that during the summer I was fortunate enough to 
win considerable money at the races, enough in fact to pay 
all expenses for living and hired help and laying in ten 
tons of coal for the winter, with a little money left. The 
next season I played the races at Jerome Park and Long 
Branch, but with negative results. That was the extent 
of my gambling operations since I left California. 

During the summer I thought I would open the grounds 
for parties, etc., and got out the following circular : 

CRYSTAL SPRLNG FISH FARM, AND PICNIC 

GROUNDS 

Are now Open to Visitors. 

These Grounds have been fitted up for large or small parties, 

with a splendid 
PAVILION FOR DANCING, 

SABBATH SCHOOL PICNICS OR PRIVATE PARTIES. 

Swings, Croquet Grounds, etc. Lemonade, Ice Cream, and 

other Luxuries, in their season, furnished 

on Reasonable Terms. 

A LIMITED AMOUNT OF TROUT FISHING ALLOWED IN SEASON. 

These grounds will he open for visitors during the year. 

The Crystal Spring Farm is located in the Ramapo Valley, 
where the scenery, historical reminiscences, and healthful- 
ness are unsurpassed. 

It is thirty-one miles from New York City, via the N. J. 
Midland Railroad, to Oakland Station. From Paterson, 
N. J., by wagon road, eight miles. 



UPS AND DOWNS IN BUSINESS LIFE 275 

The spring is located in a beautiful grove, one mile from 
Oakland Station, Bergen County, N. J., and is one of the 
largest and finest springs in the United States. It is, with- 
out doubt, one of the best known springs for the propaga- 
tion of fish of the salmon family. 

It has an immense flow of water, from fifteen hundred to 
two thousand gallons per minute. A severe drouth does 
not diminish it, or a very wet season increase it. The tem- 
perature varies but one degree, viz., fifty-three degrees in 
winter, and fifty-two degrees in summer. All the natural 
advantages are combined in and about this remarkable spring 
for the propagation and raising of brook trout : 

1. A large and constant flow of pure water. 

2. Uniformity of temperature throughout the year. 

3. A fall of forty feet in six hundred, of gradual descent. 

4. No liability of being washed out by floods. 

5. By having been a natural stream for trout. 

6. By being located in a fine grove of trees. 

In June, 1873, Mr. B. B. Porter commenced operations at 
this spring for the purpose of fish culture and making the 
grove a permanent and attractive place of public resort. 

Since then the place has been visited by thousands of 
persons from nearly every State in the Union, besides many 
foreign countries, and so far has been pronounced the most 
perfect establishment of the kind in the country. 

It is believed that there is no place of its kind now open 
to the public during the whole year, where can be seen 
the complete modus operandi of fish culture in all stages 
of propagation, taking the spawn, the development of the 
embryo in the egg, hatching of the fish, their appearance 
after hatching, how and when they begin to feed, etc., etc., 



2^6 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

all of which can be seen, and will be explained to visitors in 
a few hours, for the nominal sum of twenty-five cents. 

At present there are twenty-five ponds of all sizes, with 
several more in course of construction, stocked with all 
sizes of fish, from an inch to eighteen inches in length, com- 
prising salt w^ater salmon (salino salar), salmon trout 
(salino confinis), and brook trout (salino fontinalis), native, 
and species from different parts of the country, to the num- 
ber of seventy-five thousand, large and small, and in ponds 
where the fish can be clearly seen. The grove in which the 
ponds and spring are located comprise between five and 
six acres of ground. Our buildings are sufficient to shelter 
one thousand people in case of storm during their visit. Our 
charges are for admission only. No extra charge during 
the day for the use of the swings, croquet grounds, pavilion, 
and other means of amusement. 

For Sabbath school picnics, admission fee w^ill be ten 
cents only, all others twenty-five cents. No deduction for 
large parties. We will transfer all baskets of refreshments 
from the depot to the gate, free of charge, for all large 
parties, from whom a few days' notice will be required. 

Small parties can come any day v/ithout giving notice. 

Those wishing to amuse themselves by ''tripping the light 
fantastic toe*' in the afternoon or evening must furnish 
their own music, unless previously notified in time to be 
furnished. 

All communications addresed to 

B. B. Porter, Oakland, Bergen Co., N. J., 
will receive prompt attention. 

N. B. — Eg^s, small fry, yearlings, and large trout for sale. 
All orders addressed as above. Crystal Spring Fish Farm, 
Oakland, Bergen County, N. J. 



CHAPTER XII. 

HOW TO RAISE TROUT. 

After issuing the above we had a good many small par- 
ties to visit us, but the times were too hard, and the revenue 
from this source being rather small, I abandoned the scheme 
and dispensed with the charges. , ^ ,j a 

In the winter of 1876-77 I sold off my stock of old and 
young fish pretty close, for I had made up my mmd that 
unless I could sell out I would have to change my busmess, 
as the times were so hard, and money so tight, that it was 
pretty hard work to keep up expenses; besides, the price 
of fry and eggs had got to be so low that it did not pay 
as well. In the spring of 1877 I sold a good many baskets of 
water cress, which grew in abundance about the spring and 
ponds, but the price of that commodity had fallen to a very 
low figure, and there seemed no end in sight to the hard 
times. I began to think seriously of going back to Califor- 
nia, and starting in anew. My wife was also in favor of it, 
although in a delicate condition. I had considerable trouble 
with John Post, the man that Van Cleve and I had bought 
some land of, and had to go through a series of lawsuits to 
get the matter settled up. Living was rather high, with 
no prospect of better times ahead, and I began to make 
strenuous efforts to get rid of my property. 

It was a little discouraging, after working all my life to 

I - '7^ ^ 



278 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

get a home, and then at the age of forty-five have to com- 
mence over again. However, I kept a stiff upper lip, and 
did the best I could under the circumstances. Misfortunes 
and difficulties seemed to be multiplying but I was not des- 
pondent, or despairing. 

As I could see no chance to sell my home, I concluded 
to try and close out the whole thing at auction, real estate, 
fish, stock, household goods ; in fact, everything I had, and 
start for California. I found that I could arrange with 
the firm of John Mathews & Co., of New York, the Cort- 
land Wagon Company, and the Hubers Glass Ball Traps, 
to sell their goods on commission, and as correspondent and 
solicitor for the Forest and Stream. All the above firms 
gave me assurance that they would do what they could to 
help me, and an agency when I reached the Pacific Coast. 
In October I got out large and small posters and put them 
up all about the country for miles distant about my place, 
and advertised the auction in several newspapers. Sale was 
to take place November 22 and 23, 1877. I employed H. G. 
Ryerson as auctioneer, who was counted the best in Pater- 
son, N. J., and when the day of sale came we had a crowd, 
and the bidding was brisk, but the prices were very low in 
consequence of the scarcity of money. The sales were for 
cash only, except the real estate. The fish in the ponds were 
to go with the real estate. 

I had a fine two-year-old dog, of the mastiff breed, one 
of the best watch dogs I ever saw, and on the second day 
I had him put up for sale, and informed the people that a 
bid of less than five dollars would not be entertained. Al- 
though I enthusiastically described his merits, no one wanted 
a dog, and I gave him to the auctioneer. A couple of years 
after my sale, Mr, Ryerson sold two dairies at auction, and 



HOW TO RAISE TROUT 279 

received something over fourteen thousand dollars in cash, 
which he took home and placed in a large iron safe he had 
in an old log house adjoining his dwelling, which he used 
as an office. He lived a mile or two out of the city of Pat- 
erson, and being called away from home at night, placed 
the dog in the office and locked him in. During the night 
some thieves came to rob the safe, and brought some fresh 
meat with them, broke the glass in the window of the office, 
and threw the poisoned meat in for the dog, but he did not 
touch it. He made so much noise that it woke up the neigh- 
bors up and down the road, and they came to ]\Ir. Ryerson's 
office to see what the trouble was. Soon after, Mr. Ryerson 
came home and found that Bob the dog had saved him 
the fourteen thousand dollars ^11 right. The Paterson papers 
were full of accounts of the attempted robbery, and Bob 
became famous in that community. The meat was taken 
to a chemist, and found to contain enough poison to kill 
forty dogs. 

In the afternoon of the second day of the sale, the real 
estate was put up, but not a bid was made, although I offered 
to accept a bid as low as seven thousand dollars, with all 
the time for payment they required. The sale showed how 
bad the times were. The house alone cost me eight thousand 
five hundred dollars. Then there were the barn, icehouse, 
hatching house, and an addition I had put up, and the pa- 
vilion. The household and movable property was all sold, 
and netted me about half what it cost me. We had about 
two hundred pots of flowers, some very rare, that sold read- 
ily. I sent my wife to New York to stay with her sister, 
while Joe Turner remained to look after the fish left and 
get things in readiness to leave. I left my goods with my 
friend Van Houten, a neighbor, to be shipped as directed 



28o ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

when I called for them. To leave my home was rather 
hard, but it was the best I could do, as I saw it. I have 
been rather brief in my account of fish culture, but I will 
close my short, but thoroughly enjoyed career in the busi- 
ness by a short account of my experience in trout culture 
that appeared in the columns of the Forest and Stream some 
time before I left. It is as follows: 

Oakland, Bergen Co., N. J., Nov. ii, 1876. 
Friend Hallock: 

Having been much interested in the experiences of sev- 
eral parties in regard to the culture of trout, as given in 
the Forest and Stream, I beg leave to offer a few lines on 
what I know about trout raising. 

I There is a great difference in the growth of trout in dif- 
ferent streams, owing, no doubt, to the kind and quality 
of food, as well as quantity. All fish culturists are aware 
that trout of the same age, bred in the same waters, from 
the same parents, are not all of the same size, even at six 
weeks old or one month, after they begin to feed, although 
their chances were equal in every respect. I begin to sort 
my trout when they have been feeding for a month, and I 
always have three sizes. I raise as small fish as anyone, and, 
I think, as large fish as anyone. Last year I sold a lot of 
two thousand, at nine months old, that would measure from 
four to six inches in length. I had another lot of trout that 
were hatched at the same time, from the same lot of eggs, 
that were fine, vigorous little fellows, not more than an 
inch and a half long, fed the same, and had the same chance 
in every respect. Out of the same lot of eggs I had another 
pond of fish that were about two and a half to three inches 
long. My facilities were perhaps better for experimenting 



HOW TO RAISE TROUT 281 

than some of your correspondents had, they being all right 
as far as their experience went. 

Now, I wish to claim your attention a little further and 
explain another experiment. Two years ago I placed, within 
a week's time, several pairs of trout in a small spring pond, 
and let them spawn themselves. As soon as they were done 
spawning I took them out. I put pairs enough in until I 
thought there would be fish enough for the pond and two 
other smaller ponds below, with a fall between them of 
eighteen inches or more, without screens between them. But 
at the last pond I placed a screen, as securely as possible, 
so that the smallest fish could not escape. In due time my 
fish hatched out splendidly, and I had a fine lot of them. 
I partially covered the ponds with boards and took the best 
of care of them. In about a month after they had begun 
to feed I discovered quite a number in the second pond. 
In the lower or third pond I saw none for nearly two months 
and a half. In about three or four months my fish were 
about equally divided in the three ponds, and sorted better 
than I could have sorted them by hand. All the little dwarfs 
were in the upper pond, those larger in size were in the 
second pond, and in the third pond were the largest and 
finest of the lot. The ponds were nearly the same size, 
though the third one was perhaps the smallest. I kept them 
in these ponds for six months. Those in the third pond 
measured three inches long; in the second, two and one- 
half inches ; and in the first there was not a fish above an 
inch and a half long. The same experiment was tried the 
past year, with the same result. It is a well-known fact 
that young trout will get through the smallest possible hole ; 
therefore, have not some of your correspondents lost their 
largest trout, and preserved their small ones every year. 



2S2 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

and consequently think that trout won't grow for them 
only two and one-half inches long to three and one-half 
inches long? I also claim that trout grow faster for the 
first year and a half than they ever do afterward. 

If a nondescript one-half inch long becomes a trout of 
six inches in one year, does he afterward double his size as 
many times in a year? In the fall of 1873 I had three trout 
from Rangeley Lake, Maine, placed in my ponds, two males 
and one female. The males weighed a little over three 
pounds apiece, and the female somewhat less. The female 
died in about six or eight months. When she spawned I got 
thirteen hundred eggs from her. One of the males died 
in about one year with what Mr. Stone calls black ophthal- 
mia, and although he was very thin, and all head when he 
died, he weighed three and a half pounds. The remaining 
one I kept for two years and a half, and he must have 
weighed nearly six pounds. He was always in perfect health, 
and became a great pet, allowing me to rub his belly with 
my hand with seeming delight. He was stolen from my 
pond one night by some miserable thief. 

Hoping to hear from some other parties on the growth 
of trout, through your columns, I will close by saying that 
almost every year I have raised trout that have measured 
seven inches and a half in length at one year of age, as well 
as an inch and a half of the same age. 

B. B. Porter. 

After the above letter appeared in the Forest and Stream 
I received many letters of inquiry and commendation for the 
article. To answer the many questions I had received about 
the above, and other articles sent to the columns of the 
Forest and Stream^ I sent the following to the same journal : 



HOW TO RAISE TROUT 283 

Oakland, N. J., April 21, 1877. 
Editor Forest and Stream : 

It is thought by many fish culturists that it is a very hard 
matter to raise trout until they are six months old. We 
know that they are subject to many diseases ; that they die 
even with careful treatment, as well as with careless treat- 
ment; and thus far, no one has given any rules whereby 
they can be brought to maturity with a small percentage of 
loss. Livingstone Stone comes the nearest to it of any prac- 
tical writer on this subject. We believe with him that it 
can be done, yet few have the requisite facilities to do it. 
For a few years I have been engaged in the culture of trout, 
with both good and poor success, but whenever I failed I 
could always find a good reason for the failure, and tried to 
avoid it in the next attempt. To start with, one must have 
the natural facilities, such as a constant flow of pure water 
of uniform temperature, not liable to be flooded, and a good 
fall. Great care should be taken that you get your eggs 
from healthy fish, as many diseases (I think) of the fry are 
traceable to the parent fish. After you have the eggs placed 
in the hatching house, exclude the light, and prevent the 
growth of fungus. After the eggs have been in the hatching 
troughs twenty days or more, take them out every day and 
wash them, and clean out the troughs, removing all the 
dead eggs. If you discover any fungus in your distributing 
trough, and cannot turn off the water handily, sprinkle in 
plenty of salt, which will kill the fungus. As soon as the 
eggs are hatched, remove the fish to another trough, where 
you have spread half an inch or an inch of good, clean, fresh 
earth, with a little salt mixed with it. As a general thing, 
the fish will remain healthy until the sac is nearly absorbed, 



284 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

with the exception of a few that are attacked with blue 
swelHng of the sac. 

Sometimes the fish will all remain healthy until they have 
been feeding for a week or two ; then, if they have not been 
promptly and properly attended to, a few will die ; the next 
day probably fifty or a hundred ; and if no remedy is ap- 
plied, all will be dead in a week. 

I have never had any disease attack my fish that a salt 
bath would not cure before they began to feed. To give 
them the salt bath, shut off the water from the trough or 
rearing box, and dip the water mostly out; then put in at 
least half a pint of salt to a gallon of water, and stir gently 
with a feather until the salt is dissolved. When you see 
the fish begin to turn on their sides let on the fresh water, 
and very soon they will be as lively as ever. If you have 
not given the fish fresh earth every day or two, a little 
white spot will appear on their heads, which invariably kills 
the fish. This disease never appears when fresh earth is 
freely used. Again, while the fish seem well, and eat well, 
you will notice a few lying on the bottom, or swimming 
about slowly, dropping down on the bottom, and turning 
on their sides. The next morning they are dead, with their 
gills full of fungus, which they have picked up while float- 
ing about. Salt is a sure remedy for this disease, and does 
not kill the fish. Stone first recommended it in his **Domes- 
ticated Trout." A free use of rock salt daily in the distribu- 
ting trough and aqueducts leading to your rearing box is a 
preventive. 

When your fish are troubled in this way, take them out in 
a pan or dish and give them a strong salt bath, and see how 
soon the top of the water is covered with dead fungus from 
the fish. The next morning you will find your fish lively, 



HOW TO RAISE TROUT 285 

and no dead ones to pick out. I also find that a salt bath 
kills parasites and saves the fish; and where salt is used 
freely there are but few of the emaciated or sickly ones, 
all head, with body growing smaller every day. In some 
of my rearing boxes, where the fish have been supplied with 
earth and salt freely, it is a rare thing to find a dead fish, 
and they are uniform in size, with no emaciated ones against 
the screens or seeking the still water in the corners, but all 
vigorously heading upstream. From my experience and 
experiments I am fully convinced that any man that has a 
taste for fish culture, and has the requisite natural advan- 
tages, and will start with good eggs, from healthy fish, and 
a barrel of salt, backed up with energy and perseverance, 
and a determination not to neglect any duty, however trifling 
it may seem, can raise trout until they are six months old 
with ease. Overcoming previous failures is a sure road to 
success. B. B. Porter. 

As I left New York for San Francisco before the seventh 
annual meeting of the American Fish Culturists' Association 
met, at the request of the secretary of the association, Bar- 
net Phillips, I prepared a paper to be read before the asso- 
ciation. Below I will give a copy of the report of m.y article, 
as I found it in the New York Herald: 

"A dissertation on Trout Culture, by B. B. Porter, set- 
ting forth the results of experiments made by him at Oak- 
land, Bergen County, N. J., during the last five years, was 
read to the meeting by the secretary, Barnet Phillips. In 
this the author, who is at present residing in California, sets 
forth, among other matters, that the methods of raising 
brook trout at the present day only vary in appliances, from 
the date of its commencement in this country. 



2^6 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

"Brook trout culture is really the mother of fish culture, 
whereb}^ our rivers, lakes, ponds, and creeks, are already 
teeming with countless thousands of fish in many localities, 
from the Atlantic to the Pacific. 

''The salmon family of our country are now being sent to 
all parts of the world, and yet fish culture is only in its 
infancy. At the first regular meeting of the association, at 
Albany, N. Y., almost every member was interested in the 
culture of trout or salmon ; but now the 'angler's pride' is 
hardly thought of, though it is the most difficult fish to rear 
to maturity of all our food fishes ; consequently, it is likely, 
I think, to remain a luxury, and will always command a 
good price in the market. 

In raising trout, one must have the natural facilities. 
First, a never-failing spring, with a good flow of water; 
second, the water must be of uniform temperature during 
the whole year ; third, a good fall ; fourth, not liable to be 
washed out by floods during the severest storms. The old 
method of hatching the spawn on gravel is nearly obsolete. 
Wire traps, with wires crossing each other at right angles, 
one-tenth of an inch apart one way, and half an inch apart 
the other way, are probably the best for hatching trout or 
salmon spawn, allowing the fish to fall through as soon as 
hatched. 

There are many ingenious devices for hatching, but if you 
have your eggs so that you can pick them over readily, and 
keep them clean, and exclude the light, it is the easiest 
part of fish culture, providing your eggs are well impreg- 
nated. The watering-pot will keep the sediment off, and a 
liberal use of salt will keep the fungus from generating. 
After the eggs are hatched it is best to remove them to 
another trough, or rearing box, where you have spread an 



HOW TO RAISE TROUT 287 

inch or more of fresh earth, and they will generally remain 
healthy until the sac is absorbed. 

*Tn his experience with one hundred thousand eggs, from 
eighty to eighty-five per cent, are impregnated ; but of these, 
about five per cent, will not have enough strength to break 
the shell. Before the sac is absorbed, five per cent more 
will die with the swelling of the sac. By the time the fish 
begin feeding, twenty per cent, more will die from disease, 
or be eaten by their companions. From these and other 
causes about twenty per cent, of the original one hundred 
thousand will be left at the end of the first year. 

"At the end of the second year a further decrease will 
leave only from five to ten thousand. No one, to his knowl- 
edge, had yet raised trout exclusively for table use, but 
that it would be done was simply a question of time. 

"The above paper called forth a lively discussion, in which 
several of the members participated. Mr. Seth Green was 
asked by R. B. Roosevelt, president of the association, his 
experiences, and he said that he raised eighty-five per cent." 

After putting our house in order and storing our goods, 
Turner and I bade the old place a kind adieu and went 
over to New York. As Turner was determined to go to 
California, too, I sent him by steamer, via Panama, as I 
expected to be at least a month on the way overland. After 
making careful arrangements with the different parties 
whom I was to represent on my way to San Francisco, and 
leaving my wife with her sister, Mrs. Sage, until I sent for 
her, I took my departure for the Pacific Coast on the six- 
teenth day of December, 1877, to seek a home and recoup 
my lost fortunes. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN. 

I WAS now forty-five years of age, but I felt young, and 
took my losses philosophically; and not being of the kind 
to worrv over spilled milk, went on my way rejoicmg, de- 
termined to do my best, and that was as good as any man 
could do. My health was fair, and I thought I was able 
to stand a great deal of hardship yet. In due time I reached 
Chicago, and looked up my old friend James Langfort, who 
was then a floor walker in the dry goods house of Field, 
Leitcr & Co., and had a good visit with him. From Chicago 
I went direct to Omaha, Neb., where I was to commence 
work for the different firms for whom I was acting as agent. 
After making a few sales I went on to the town of Fremont, 
Neb., where I stayed for two or three days, and formed 
some very desirable acquaintances. I also met an old friend 
there, as I had arranged by letter, and he went with me 
as far as Grand Island, Neb. Here I made some sales. 

I reached Cheyenne, Wyo., on the day before Christmas, 
and found W. H. Taylor, to whom I had a letter of intro- 
duction. I found him a very congenial companion, and he 
gave me much information regarding Denver City, where I 
was to go. I did considerable business in Cheyenne for a 
week, then went to Denver, where I stayed for five or six 

days. 

288 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 289 

Denver, at that time, was quite a thriving city, and there 
was a good deal of business done there. I did very well 
while there, although the cold was intense, the temperature 
being below zero most of the time. The atmosphere was 
clearer than any I had seen since I left California, over 
twenty years before. The scenery was superb on clear, 
frosty mornings, when you could see Long's Peak, Pike's 
Peak, and many of lesser size that loomed up in the distance.^ 
I had my face shaved clean on New Year's morning, 1878, 
at the Grand Hotel, Denver, and have never shaved since 
(this is November, 1902). 

I went back to Cheyenne and stayed a day or two, then 
resumed my journey westward. I made my next stop at 
Laramie. Between Cheyenne and Laramie we passed the 
highest point of the Rocky Mountains, where the train 
stopped for fifteen minutes to allow the passengers to view 
the magnificent scenery, which was indeed grand. Stand- 
ing on the backbone of the continent, at an elevation of 
8,242 feet above the level of the sea, gazing on one of the 
most beautiful sights in the way of mountains and lofty 
peaks, vales and valleys, and breathing the pure air, one is 
entranced with the handiwork of God, and you long to linger 
and enjoy, but are suddenly startled by the cry of "All 
aboard!" and you drop back to the common, humdrum 
thoughts of the day and pass on to the city of Laramie. 

After a short stay at Laramie I again boarded the train 
for Ogden, Utah, and on the first night out nearly froze 
to death in the cars. It was a bitter cold night, but the 
next day the weather moderated and it became quite com- 
fortable, and I enjoyed the scenery along the road very 
much. In the afternoon we came to the thousand-mile tree 



290 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

and the Devil's Slide in Weber Canon, and passing the many 
unique rocks and cliffs, as we wound along the little creek, 
through the Wasach Mountains, and all at once rushed out 
into the Salt Lake Valley, with the Great Salt Lake in full 
view. To me it was a remarkable ride, and I enjoyed it 
to the fullest extent. We reached Ogden just at dark, and 
I went to the first hotel I came to, pretty well played out, 
and retired early. 

After a day or two I went down to Salt Lake City and 
stayed there about a week. Besides doing a good deal of 
business I took in all the sights possible, and attended church 
at the Mormon Synagogue. I did some business with the 
Z. C. M. L, and found them very fair to deal with, and 
good business men. The city seemed to be very prosperous 
at that time and trade good. I enjoyed my visit very much, 
it being to me the most interesting place T had seen since 
I left New York. I saw Mormonism in all its phases. Brig- 
ham Young's famous mansion, where his favorite wife lived, 
and many cottages where his secondary wives lived sep- 
arately. 

In leaving the city I reached the depot half an hour too 
early. Soon after, a man drove up in a two-horse wagon, 
with one woman sitting on the seat beside him, and four oth- 
ers sitting on the bottom of the wagon. The man got down, 
and left the women to get down as best they could without 
his assistance. They meekly followed him into the depot, 
and sat down while their lord and master called for five 
tickets for Ogden. The women were well clad but were 
ordinary looking, ranging from thirty to forty years of age. 
When the train pulled up to the depot, Mr. Mormon beck- 
oned to his flock with his finger to follow him, without a 
word being said. He clambered into the train, and the 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN ^91 

women got in the best way they could. Mr. Mormon took 
a seat alone on one side of the car and pointed to two seats 
on the opposite side for his wives to be seated. Not a word 
was said by any of them to one another during the whole 
trip, and they left the train at Ogden without a smile or a 
word. It looked to me more like a man with a pack of 
hounds at his heels. There was not the least sign of affec- 
tion or respect on either side. And this was polygamy as I 
saw it, in private as well as in public, 

I took the train next for Elko, Nev., and stayed there 
for twenty-four hours. While there I formed the acquain- 
tance of Judge F. K. Bechtel, formerly of Pennsylvania, but 
at that time a resident of Bodie, California. He was on his 
return from a visit to the East, and had with him a little 
girl of eleven years of age, whose parents lived in Bodie, and 
he was bringing her out to them. She was a lovely little 
girl, and afforded us considerable amusement with her bright 
sayings and sprightly pranks, and withal perfectly ladylike 
in demeanor. The judge told her that at the next place 
we stopped we would have some mountain strawberries, and 
she was highly delighted ; but when she found that the 
judge's strawberries were beans, she was very much put 
out. When we arrived at Reno, my next stopping place, 
we stayed at the same hotel, and the next morning all three 
of us took the train for Carson City, Nev., where we again 
stayed for the night and all the next day. I bid the judge 
good-bye until we should meet in San Francisco at some 
future time, as per agreement. 

While in Carson City I formed the acquaintance of H. G. 
Parker, fish commissioner of the State of Nevada, a first- 
class man and sportsman, who made me promise to come 
and stop with him over Sunday after my visit to Virginia 



^92 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

City, where I expected to stay two or three days. I made 
my visit to Virginia City, and did some business, making 
the acquaintance of several of the leading men, among them 
the superintendent of the water-works of Virginia City, and 
of the Bonanza Mines in particular, who gave me an invi- 
tation to visit the Virginia City Club. I accepted the invi- 
tation, and had a most enjoyable time. He took me through 
the Bonanza Mines and the weighing and assay offices ; in 
fact, treated me with great consideration, simply for giving 
him some desired information about raising trout and keep- 
ing them in his reservoir for fishing purposes. 

I got back to Carson City on Saturday night to fulfil 
my engagement with Mr. Parker. We had a pleasant even- 
ing at his home, with his wife, daughter, and son, and early 
the next morning, with a fine team and light wagon, started 
for Lake Tahoe, some ten or fifteen miles away. It would 
astonish most Eastern people to see how easily a pair of 
horses can draw a heavy buggy, with two or three people 
in it, over hills and steep grades with hardly a break in a 
brisk trot. The horses seem to have great endurance in this 
clear mountain air of the Sierras. Eighty miles a day is 
done here with an ordinary team, while half that distance 
east of the Mississippi would be a good day's travel. On 
our way to Lake Tahoe we crossed and passed under the 
celebrated V-shaped flume, owned by the Bonanza firm of 
Virginia City. The flume is fifteen miles long, and has a 
fall of sixteen hundred to two thousand feet. Millions upon 
millions of feet of the best pine timber had been floated 
down this flume, and something like twelve thousand acres 
of mountain land had been denuded of its forest, and nearly- 
all of it went into the mines at Virginia City. 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 293 

We passed some most wonderful scenery that is simply 
indescribable. Mr. Parker told me it was twenty-one miles 
from Carson City to Lake Tahoe, and also that they had 
run down the flume seven hundred cords of wood daily 
or half a million feet of mining timber. On our way over,- 
we met the world-renowned stage driver, Hank Monk, who 
carried Horace Greeley one hundred and nine miles in ten 
hours over his route. He had driven over the route from 
Carson City to Lake Tahoe for many years, and once made 
the trip from Carson City to Virginia, twenty-one miles, 
in an hour and eight minutes. Monk was not a tall man, 
but of stout build, and looked to me like a man who used 
a great deal of whiskey ; but he was never drunk. We made 
the trip in a little over two hours, and reached Glenbrook, 
where we had dinner, then went for a sail in a rowboat to 
see the wonderful beauties of Lake Tahoe. 

This body of fresh water is twenty-two miles long, and, 
on an average, ten miles wide. It has an elevation of one 
mile and a quarter, and has been sounded to a depth of 
sixteen hundred and forty-five feet. It is as clear as crys- 
tal, and you can see fish and pebbles on the bottom at a 
depth of sixty to seventy-five feet. Our boat seemed to 
be sailing in mid-air, as it glided over the smooth water. 
The lake never freezes, and the trout it contains are unsur- 
passed for flavor. We tried to catch some, but failed, but 
found a fisherman out on the lake who had one that weighed 
six pounds, which we caught with some silver, and had it- 
for breakfast the next morning. You cannot see the whole 
lake till you get out some distance from Glenbrook. There 
were two steamboats at Glenbrook., laid up for the winter. 
A trip around the lake in summer costs five dollars. Shake- 
speare Rock stands out in bold relief, a short distance frorn 



294 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

Glenbrook. It is almost perpendicular on the side toward 
the lake, on which the profile of the great poet's face is 
accurately lined ; that is, I was so informed. The scenery 
about the lake is charming, and, take it all in all, it is the most 
wonderful lake I ever saw. 

Our ride back to Carson City was made in quick time, 
and we reached there before night. The next morning I 
took the train for Reno, and waited for the westbound over- 
land. I am sorry that I did not have time to visit Tahoe 
City, on the west side of the lake, where they had started a 
trout-breeding establishment. The trout here spawn in April, 
May, and June, and to show how prolific the trout are in 
the outlet to Lake Tahoe, called Truckee River, there were 
taken one hundred and seventy thousand pounds of trout, 
saying nothing of the fish taken from the lake, the year 
before. 

I had intended to stop at Truckee and visit Donner Lake, 
as well as Lake Tahoe, but I had been so long on the way 
from Omaha that I concluded not to stop again until I 
reached San Francisco. From Reno, west, we followed up 
the Truckee River, which reminded me of my former expe- 
rience in California, more than twenty years before. It is 
two hundred and fifty miles from Truckee to San Francisco, 
and at that time it took about twenty hours to make the 
trip. I lost the sight of Donner Lake, and most of the snow- 
sheds, but have passed over the same route by daylight since, 
which I will speak of farther on. 

We reached Dutch Flat the next morning at daylight, and 
in a short time we arrived at Cape Horn, where the train 
stopped for the passengers to view the magnificent scenery 
and look down two thousand feet to the American River, 
^vhich, like a silver thread, courses its way between the 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 295 

lofty mountains. It Is an awe-inspiring sight, when seen 
for the first time. After a short stop, "All aboard!" was 
sung out, and on we went across a trestle bridge one hun- 
dred and thirteen feet high, over a ravine, to a low divide, 
to Colfax, where a narrow-gauge road starts. This road 
is built to Grass Valley and Nevada City. At Colfax we 
stopped twenty-five minutes for breakfast. 

Colfax is one hundred and ninety-three miles from San 
Francisco, and has an altitude of 2,422 feet. Soon after, 
we were on our way to the Sacramento Valley. The glimpses 
\ve got of the valley, going down the Sierras, along the 
American River, were grand, and in the hazy distance we 
could see the Coast Range of mountains, one hundred miles 
away. At one point of view we could see Mount Diablo, 
at another the Marysville Buttes, twelve miles from Marys- 
ville. At Roseville Junction we were in the valley, and clear 
of the mountains and foothills, and after crossing a long 
trestle over the American River, rolled into Sacramento City. 
Before we reached the city we had a good view of the State 
Capitol and Agricultural Park and pavilion. 

When I first saw Sacramento, in the spring of 1853, people 
were sailing about the city in boats, and the whole valley 
was under water, looking like a vast lake, with here and 
there a mound above water covered with cattle, horses, 
sheep, etc. Once more I had reached the glorious State of 
California, to which I had longed to get back for over tw^enty 
years. Once I got as far as New York on my way, but 
circumstances over which I had no control defeated my 
plans ; but now I am here again, and intend to stay. 

This puts me in mind of a ditty I found in a newspaper 
of recent date, which is as follows ; 



296 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

GIVE ME CALIFORNY. 

"Blizzard back in New York State 
Sings its frosty tune. 
Here the sun a-shinin', 
Air as warm as June. 

"Snow in Pennsylvany, 
Zero times down East ; 
Here the flowers bloomin*, 
A feller's eyes to feast. 

"Shiverin' in Kansas, 

The hull blame country froze ; 
Here the birds a-singin', 
Girls in summer clothes. 

"It's every one his own way. 
The place he'd like to be, 
But give me Californy, 
It's good enough for me." 

After a short stop in Sacramento our train moved out for 
San Francisco, passing Stockton on the way. We then went 
through the Livermore Valley to Niles, near the head of 
the bay, and down to Oakland, then over the bay to San 
Francisco. 

Here I felt once more like being at home. This was the 
twenty-first day of January, 1878. I had been on the way 
from New York just thirty-six days, made many pleasant 
acquaintances, enthusiastically enjoyed the scenery, visited 
all the important cities and towns on the way, and besides 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 297 

made money on the way over as agent for the different 
firms I represented; and best of all, had enjoyed the best 
of health all the while on the trip. 

On my arrival at San Francisco I found my friend Joe 
Turner waiting for me, dead broke, and in debt for a week's 
board at a cheap boarding house. The first thing I looked 
for was a room for us both, which I found on Sixth Street, 
and then securing my mail, which had accumulated to large 
proportions, set to work answering my letters and getting 
ready to look about to see what to do next. I had several 
letters of introduction that helped to give me a start in the 
direction of business. Among all my new acquaintances in 
San Francisco, none impressed me so favorably as Mr. M. 
V. B. Watson, who was doing business at 319 Battery Street, 
and our mutual regard for each other soon ripened into a 
very warm friendship, and remained so until his death in 
1894. He was the best man and friend I ever knew. 

After canvassing the town for the Forest and Stream and 
Charley Hallock's books, I looked into the wagon and soda 
stock business, as well as the trap-shooting affairs, and 
formed the acquaintance of Dr. Carver, the best shot at 
that time on the Pacific Coast. I did fairly well, but pros- 
pects for a paying business were rather poor. Mathews 
had an agent there already, also the Cortland Wagon Com- 
pany, but the wagon company's agent was in Los Angeles. 
I was treated very shabbily by both firms, and after sev- 
eral weeks concluded to drop the Mathews agency and look 
after the wagon company's affairs by going to Los Angeles 
to see what could be done. I got Turner a place to work 
in Alameda, and I took the steamer for Los Angeles on 
the 20th of February, 1878. I was to act as Mr. Watson's 
agent for his goods, 



298 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

The day before I sailed I was over to Alameda, and found 
James M. Reynolds staying with his brother, who was a 
practicing physician in that town. '7^"^" was my orderly 
sergeant when I was taken prisoner at the battle of St. 
Mary's Church in 1864, and he afterward became a major of 
the regiment. Of course we had a happy reunion, for I 
had not seen or heard of him since the war. He came from 
the East about the same time I did, and intended to make 
his home in Alameda. His wife and little daughter were 
with him. We sailed, as above stated, on the old steamer 
Orizaba for way ports and Los Angeles. 

My mind carried me back twenty years and more, and 
I sat down upon the hurricane deck to meditate alone and 
live the past over again. Strange seemed the vicissitudes 
of my life! From school to Kansas, thence back to York 
State ; then to war, a prisoner of war ; thence to the verge 
of death ; then to Baltimore and business ; thence to farming 
and fish culture; then a traveling agent, and here I am, 
rocking on the broad bosom of the Pacific, a poor but not 
discouraged man, though far away from wife, home, and 
friends. I had enjoyed life in all its phases, at times strug- 
gling for existence, again with plenty of money that brought 
me luxuries and pleasures. I had travelled extensively, 
worked hard, sufifered many a disappointment, at other times 
elated with success; in fact, there seemed no phase of life 
experience that I had not passed through, except that in 
the career of a dishonest rogue. My efforts to gain an hon- 
est living have always been honorable. I have made mis- 
takes (who has not?), had been fortunate and unfortunate. 
Perhaps I had been too independent, but that was my nature, 
and I could not help it. I was tinctured enough with ego- 
tism to believe in myself, and never relaxed my efforts to 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 299 

take care of myself, though perhaps if I had allowed others 
to lead me I would have been better off — perhaps not. Who 
can say? 

The gong for supper broke my reverie, and I went below 
to recuperate the inner man. 

We stopped at several landings, and finally reached Santa 
Monica, where we took the cars for Los Angeles, where I 
put up at the White House, at the corner of Los Angeles 
and Commercial streets. Before reaching the city we passed 
through an orange orchard loaded with the golden fruit. 
Everybody is enthusiastic over their first sight of an orange 
orchard, with the trees of a deep green foliage, loaded down 
with the golden fruit, making a very pleasing contrast in 
color ; and I was no exception to the rule. I wanted to go 
at once and pick some, and eat from the tree. Reader, you 
know how it is yourself. Oh, no, you would not steal, but 
the temptation is too great, and the first thing you know, 
you have gone and done it with no one's consent, and your 
conscience does not bother you much, either. After a while 
you become more careful. 

Los Angeles, at that time, had ten or twelve thousand 
inhabitants, and seemed rather a dull town. After hunting 
up the parties for whom I had letters of introduction, and 
inquiring into business matters, more especially the Cort- 
land Wagon Company's agent, Mr. Lieutwiler, I must say 
I was not favorably impressed with the chances for a man 
without money to invest. Everybody seemed anxious to 
get away, and many a young orange orchard could have been 
bought by paying or assuming the mortgage on it and giving 
the owner enough money to get to some other part of the 
country. One of my new-found acquaintances introduced 
me to Deputy L^nited States Marshal Dunlap, who was about 



300 ONE OF THE PEOPLE > 

to make a trip over a good part of the country to serve 
some papers, and he invited me to make the trip with him, 
he to furnish transportation and I to pay my own expenses. 
I was very glad to accept the offer, and the next day we 
started out on a buckboard behind a splendid pair of bay 
horses. It was in the month of March, and I saw farmers 
cutting hay. The whole face of the country was covered 
with wild flowers, and I thought I had never seen so beau- 
tiful a country: in fact, I never had at that time of year. 
We visited Anheim, Downey, Gospel Swamp, Santa Ana, 
Orange, and then across the hills to Spadra, and back to 
Los Angeles via San Gabriel. It was a delightful trip and 
the weather was fine. We were gone three nights and four 
days. 

I saw small houses completely covered with climbing roses 
all in full bloom, which was a sight that I had never dreamed 
of before. Santa Ana had a small hotel, one large store in 
a building that looked, outside, more like a barn than a 
store ; also a tin shop and a blacksmith shop ; and they had 
laid a foundation for a small brick building which was said 
to be for a bank. You could throw a stone from one end 
of the main street to the other at one throw — and that was 
the Santa Ana of the spring of 1878. Downey was little 
larger. Orange about the same, and Spadra consisted of 
one hotel, a house or two, and the railroad depot. 

Old Mr. Rubottom was mine host at Spadra, and we 
stayed there about twenty-four hours. He had some large 
orange and lemon trees full of fruit, and told me to help 
myself, and I filled up with fruit to my heart's content. 
When we got back to Los Angeles I canvassed the town 
for business, but did not have much success, 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 301 

Mr. Watson had sent me to Mr. H. W. Stoll, who was 
engaged in the soda water business, and finding that he was 
making a very poor article of ginger ale, I engaged to teach 
him how to make it so that it would be equal to the imported 
Belfast ginger ale. It took me several days, but I made a 
sample that his customers pronounced as good as the for- 
eign article, and he paid me a good price for teaching him. 
Not finding anything to engage in that would pay me, I 
concluded to return to San Francisco and see what I could 
do there. I was a little blue over my disappointment in 
not finding something that I could profitably engage in, as 
I liked the country very much. So I bought a ticket to 
San Francisco by rail, and started back. We passed through 
Bakersfield, Tulare, and Fresno, where we stopped for 
breakfast, and lay there for an hour or more. While stand- 
ing on the corner of the street, with other passengers, a man 
who said that he lived in the Washington Colony, a few 
miles southwest of Fresno, cried out as follows : "Listen ! If 
there is any man here that wants to invest in a fruit ranch 
of twenty acres, I will sell it to him for the price of the 
mortgage on it. I paid half the purchase money down, and 
have set the whole twenty acres out to vines and fruit, and 
you can have the whole shooting match for one hundred 
dollars in cash, and take up the mortgage. Now's your 
chance ! Show me the man that wants a bargain !'* No one 
seemed inclined to accept the offer. This seemed to me 
to be a pretty poor prospect for Fresno and its surround- 
ings. 

This was just at the beginning of the raisin industry at 
Fresno, and to-day Fresno leads the world in this industry. 
A man with a little money invested, and enough to carry 
him through for a while, could have reaped a rich reward 



302 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

for his investment; but just then it looked like folly to bite 
at such a bait. 

After leaving Fresno we passed hundreds of miles of 
wheat fields, the towns of Modesto, Merced, and many other 
smaller towns, to San Francisco, which seemed more like 
home to me than any other place I had found since my 
return to California. For some time I looked for something 
to engage in that would pay me, but did not succeed, and 
having received most of the money I had earned on my 
way out, I had no further income, and things began to 
look very blue. About this time I got a letter from my 
wife, saying that she had not much money left, and would 
like some as soon as I could spare it. When I got the letter 
I had just paid a week's board in advance, and had a little 
over twelve dollars left. I went to the post office and sent 
my wife the twelve dollars, and when I left the post office 
I had ten cents in my pocket, all of my worldly possessions 
left in the way of cash. Slowly I walked down the street to 
my friend Watson, not knowing what else to do, and feeling 
rather downhearted. When I went into his office he said: 
**Oh, Mr. Porter, I'm glad you came in. I have just got 
an order to make a lot of new life-preservers for the two 
large ferryboats, and would like to have you help us out. 
Can you do it?" ''Only too happy," said I, and in an hour 
I was at work. After we got the life-preservers made, and 
delivered, Mr. Watson gave me steady employment, and I 
was soon on my feet again. 

One day, while working on the life-preservers, who should 
walk in but my old friend, John S. Peck, who in 1857 was 
the last man I saw when starting for home from Yreka, 
Siskiyou County, Cal. He accompanied me a mfle out of 
town, and we bade each other good-bye, just about twenty- 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 303 

one years before. He was then living in Virginia City, Nev. 
and had been prosperous, and was pretty well fixed. He 
thought of moving down to the bay to live, and intended 
to engage in some kind of business, and asked me to go in 
with him ; but I told him that I had no capital, and he said 
that made no difference — he wanted me, not any capital. 
We had always been good friends, but I had no idea that he 
was so much of a friend. He had two or three schemes 
on hand, but somehow they did not work. 

After I had worked a few months for Mr. Watson, and 
saved up a hundred dollars, I saw a chance to open a busi- 
ness in Alameda. I wrote to Peck about it, and he replied 
that he would send me five hundred dollars, and I could go 
ahead, and he would go in as a partner, or loan me the 
money. So I wrote him to send me the money, and I took 
my hundred dollars and rented a store and fitted it up for a 
stationery and hat business, as well as a news depot, and 
anything else I thought would pay. Peck sent me three 
hundred dollars, and I bought seven hundred dollars' worth 
of goods and started business the latter part of October, 
1878. Being a stranger, and having some opposition, busi- 
ness went a little slow, but I made more than expenses from 
the start. I was anxious to get my wife out here to help 
me, and did everything I could to push the business along 
and keep my debts paid. During the winter my wife ex- 
changed our New Jersey property for oil property in Penn- 
sylvania and one hundred and sixty acres of land in San 
Bernardino County, Southern California, but did not get 
any cash in the transaction. In the spring of 1879 my busi- 
ness improved some, and continued to do so all summer, but 
as it was not large enough for two I wrote to Peck to 
come down and see me. He came, and we went over the 



304 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

books, and I agreed to pay him back the money he had 
put in as soon as I could, and I would go it alone. 

By fall I had saved enough money to send for my wife, 
and on December 28th she arrived by steamer, via the Isth- 
mus. She brought our little dog Zoe with her, and the lit- 
tle thing knew me at once. This little dog was a terrier 
by breed, and weighed only three and a half pounds until 
after she was five years old, and was by far the best ratter 
I ever saw. One snap at a rat was all she wanted. She 
lived to be eight years old, when she was run over by a 
buggy, and lived but an hour or two after the accident. 

January i, 1880. For the first year my business had pros- 
pered, and the outlook for the future was good. I had 
moved into larger quarters and increased my stock, and dur- 
ing the year 1880 I found that I must still enlarge. So in 
the fall of the year I rented a larger place and moved into 
it in the early part of 1881. Business still increased, and I 
advertised liberally, which brought good returns ; but my 
wife and I worked hard, with but little recreation. We had 
been in good health most of the time, but the neuralgia 
bothered me very much, especially in my eyes. In 1882 I 
concluded to sell out my business and go into something 
easier. The continual overwork began to tell upon me, and 
I knew I could not hold out at the pace I was going. I ad- 
vertised all the year of 1882 without finding a buyer. I had 
made arrangements to go .iinto a wholesale notion business 
in San Francisco, where I could have a little more time 
to myself and not have to work as hard as I had been doing 
in the retail business. During the year 1882 we had been 
visited by Ex-Governor Price, of New Jersey, who had lived 
near our old home, the Crystal Spring Fish Farm, of New 
Jersey, and two of the governor's sons, Trench Price and 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 305 

Rodman Price, Jr. ; also W. H. Taylor, whom I have before 
mentioned. During Christmas week of 1882 we did a very- 
large business, and my health broke down. At last I found 
a buyer. 

In April, 1882, two young men from Los Angeles came 
up and investigated my business, and I finally sold out to 
them on April 24th for three thousand five hundred dollars, 
which I had clear for four years and a half of v^ork, which 
was very good, considering that I had not a cent of capital 
to start with. 

About this time I invested in a mine near Jackson, Ama- 
dor County, Cal., also in the fur business with my friend 
Taylor and an old Germ.an who had the secret of dressing 
seal skins without sending them to London. This was a 
good thing, and a paying business, but we lacked capital 
to carry it on successfully, therefore, after a struggle of a 
year and a half, we had to close up, but I got the most of 
my money back that I had invested in the venture. The 
wholesale firm in the notion business was badly conducted, 
and my thousand dollars that I had put into it came to 
grief when the business broke up, and I got only sixty per 
cent back again. Through a rascally superintendent who 
nearly ruined our Jackson mine, I had to go and take charge 
of the mine myself, though my health was so poor that I 
was hardly able to sit up. I stopped at Jackson for several 
weeks, when we got John S. Peck to go up and take charge 
of it. We could trust Peck, and he demonstrated all there 
was in it, but we lacked capital to run it. I went to Hobart 
& Hayward, the best mining men in San Francisco, and 
got them to go and see the mine and make us an offer for 
it. We were incorporated, and I was president of the com- 
pany. They visited the mine, and offered to take eighty 



3o6 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

thousand of the hundred thousand shares and expend fifty 
thousand dollars to develop the mine, pay all expenses and 
debts already contracted, and the twenty thousand shares 
to be divided up between the other five stockholders. I and 
one other stockholder were very much in favor of letting 
Hobart &: Hayward have it, but the other three seemed to 
think that if Hobart & Hayward could do so much, it was 
a good thing to hold, notwithstanding we could not meet 
the obligations of the mine without disposing of it. Hence 
we lost the mine, and I lost fifteen hundred dollars. That 
ended my mining ventures. 

Soon after coming from Jackson I was awakened at two 
o'clock A.M. one morning with neuralgia in both eyes. The 
pain was most excruciating, and I simply had to yell out 
with pain. My wife got some hot cloths over them as soon 
as she could, but it did not relieve me. She tried everything 
she could, but I suffered intolerably. When daylight came 
1 could not bear the light in the least. The pain continued 
until two o'clock p.m._, when it ceased entirely, but I could 
see only very dimly. We called the doctor, and he said that 
he could do nothing for me, but advised me to go to Dr. 
Barkan, one of the best oculists in San Francisco. He 
treated me daily for sixty days. 

On leaving his office one very hot day, with the ther- 
mometer about one hundred degrees in the shade, I started 
across the street, when I was taken dizzy. Everything turned 
black, and I pitched forward to the sidewalk in an uncon- 
scious condition. Although I remembered nothing, I must 
have been able to direct someone to take me where Taylor, 
my friend, was at work, for when I came to my senses 
for a moment I was sitting in a chair on the sidewalk in 
front of Taylor's place, with a bag of ice upon my head. 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 307 

and Dr. Barkan and another doctor with him giving direc- 
tions what to do for me. I was conscious but for a moment 
or two, then knew nothing more till near daylight the next 
morning, when I found myself in bed, opposite the Baldwin 
Hotel, and my wife with me. On regaining consciousness 
I recognized my wife's voice and spoke to her. After eating 
a light breakfast I accompanied her home to Alameda. I 
think this was about the twentieth of June, 1883. I contin- 
ued the treatment of my eyes with electricity, administered 
by Dr. Barkan, until it seemed to do no more good. My 
left eye improved, but my right eye did not. With strong 
glasses I could see to do business, but they never got back 
to their former condition. 

In the fall of 1883 I bought an interest in a window shade 
business, hoping to get something that could be pushed and 
in which I could make some money. I continued long enough 
to learn that there was no money in it above small wages, 
but a great deal of physical labor. So I sold my interest to 
my partner for the same money I gave for it and turned 
my attention to something else. The next thing I tried was 
a fire kindler, on which three of us got a patent. We bought 
out the third man and started the business with very good 
prospects of success. It was a good thing, and gave good 
satisfaction, but cost too much to manufacture. I ran it 
for all it was worth for six months, and found that I could 
only make a living at it ; therefore we closed the business. 

During the fall of 1883 my wife and I moved over to 
San Francisco, on Geary Street, and opened a small store, 
as my wife was anxious to engage in business again. She 
could run the business without my help, but the competition 
was so strong that she was not very successful. 



3o8 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

In the spring of 1884 we bought out a small store on 
Twenty-second Street where the prospects were better, and 
moved over there, but there was not enough business for 
both of us and I looked for something new, but it was no 
easy task. Finally I got a chance to go in with a man by 
the name of Merrill, from Maine. I continued with him; 
for several weeks, but there was not much chaace for more 
than a living. 

For a year times had been pretty hard with me, and it 
was a good deal of a struggle to keep up expenses, let alone 
making anything. The investments I had made all turned 
out poorly through no particular fault of mine, but through 
circumstances over which I had no control. 

One day, while feeling pretty blue, I got a note from 
G. J. Becht to come and see him, as he wished me to go on 
the road for him to sell Tufft's soda water apparatus and 
other goods which he was agent for. I went at once to see 
him, and agreed to start for him at seventy-five dollars per 
month, all expenses paid. I at once closed out my business 
with ]\lerrill and got ready to start for Northern California, 
Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Utah, and back to San Fran- 
cisco. This trip suited me to a fraction, as it was through 
a country that I had not seen much of before. My trade 
was with soda water men, and jewelers, to sell plated ware, 
which Tufft had added to his large establishment of soda 
apparatus in Boston, Mass. I sold also goods for my friend 
Watson on commission. I had had some considerable expe- 
rience as a travelling man in coming across the continent, 
and also in making several trips about the country for Mr. 
Watson in putting on acid feeders on gas generators, called 
Waldo's acid feeder, the right of which Mr. Watson had 
bought, and at different times had sent me outside the city 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 309 

to put on for him at the following named places : Merced, 
Modesto, Visalia, Los Angeles, San Bernardino, also Colusa 
and Stockton and Vale jo. I had also canvassed the city 
of San Francisco and all the towns about the bay with a 
scale eradicator that Watson sold. I think it was some time 
in May, 1884, that I started north, taking the train to Red- 
ding, where I stayed over night, as that was the northern 
terminus of the railroad at that time. 

For the first time in all my travels I met a relative. When 
I registered my name at the Redding Flotel a man stood 
waiting to put his name down. ''Porter, Porter," he said, 
"that's my name," and we compared notes and found that 
my grandfather and his grandfather were brothers, and 
that he was a member of the firm of Porter, Schleissinger 
& Co., of San Francisco, a large boot and shoe firm, and he 
was the travelling man of the firm. I have never seen him 
since. I took the stage at night and had to ride continu- 
ously for nearly thirty-six hours, crossing the Trinity Moun- 
tains and Scott Mountains, before we could reach the town 
of Yreka, which I left twenty-seven years before. We left 
the town of Shasta just before dark, with the stage loaded 
with passengers, but when we reached the junction of the 
road that went to Weaverville quite a number changed for 
that place, and we were not so crowded. When we got to 
French Gulch we lost two more passengers, which left me 
alone on the outside with the driver. The night was cool, 
but pleasant, and just at daylight we changed horses at the 
foot of Trinity Mountain. There were but two passengers 
left now besides myself, an old gentleman and his wife, who 
seemed to be, to all appearances, English people. The man, 
I should judge, was about fifty years of age, and his wife 
fair, fat, and forty. As we ascended the mountain we could 



310 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

catch a glimpse of fine mountain scenery now and then 
through the pine trees. It was ten miles to the foot of the 
mountain on the other side, where we were to stop for break- 
fast. Our climb up the mountain was at a slow walk, and 
it looked as though we would not get anything to eat before 
noon. The cool, bracing air sharpened our appetites, and 
the old Englishman and his wife were complaining about 
the slow pace and the poor prospect of getting any break- 
fast in time. "I'll get you to breakfast on time," said the 
driver, giving me a wink. ''Blast the bloody country!" said 
the Englishman. Finally we reached the summit, the horses 
were watered, and we started off on a brisk trot for half a 
mile, when we began to descend, and the horses began to 
gallop, and soon after were on a dead run. The road was 
good, but the pace was fearful. I was hanging on for dear 
life to keep my seat. I glanced back at the Englishman and 
his wife, whose countenances were the picture of despair, 
and they were bounding about like pebbles in a rattle box. 
As we would round a curve, they would crash against one 
side of the coach and the next instant were piled up against 
the other side. "I'll soon get you to breakfast now," says 
the driver over his shoulder. "Dom the breakfast," says 
Johnny Bull, "go a little slower." "Can't do it," said the 
driver, as we switched around the next curve, with a yawn- 
ing precipice a thousand feet below. A little screech of fear 
would now and then escape the lips of the woman, but 
Johnny Bull got swearing mad and shouted out: "The 
bloody, blawsted country. I'll 'ave him arrested, so 'elp me 
God, if I hever get safe down the 'ill !" 

When we drew up at the eating house, at the foot of the 
mountain, I asked the Englishman if he had read Horace 
Greeley's "Trip with Hank Monk Down the Sierras." He 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 311 

gave me a look of contempt and limped slowly away and 
went into breakfast, assisted by his good wife, but I noticed 
they had splendid appetites. I was very glad that the trip 
was over. We had no time to admire the scenery coming 
down, and thought only of self-preservation. It was a fear- 
ful ride, to say the least. 

After leaving the station, we jogged along at an easy pace, 
over a good road on a moderate grade, until we reached 
Scott's Mountains, with a long, steep, winding grade on the 
south side clear to the summit. Here the top of Shasta hove 
in sight an hour or two before sunset. I knew the grand old 
mountain at once from my two and a half years' acquaintance 
with it twenty-seven years before. It was like meeting an 
old friend, and I could not tire looking at it. The grade 
down was not so steep as that on Trinity Mountain, and our 
pace was not so exciting or half as fast, and we drew up 
at Callahan's in fair condition, but very tired from the long 
ride. 

As we rolled down Scott's Valley, where we left the 
Englishman and his wife, I was now the only passenger, 
and as night came on I took the inside of the coach, as it 
was much colder than the previous one. For two or three 
hours I got along very well, getting a short nap now and 
then until we reached the summit, between Scott's Valley 
and Yreka. Down the mountain the road was intolerably 
rough, and I bounded about worse than the Englishman did 
on Trinity, and learned from experience how it was myself. 
I think that was the worst hour's ride I ever had on a stage, 
though perhaps not as exciting. Finally we reached a com- 
paratively smooth road, and in a short time reached Yreka, 
at 2.30 A.M. As soon as we reached the hotel I went to my 
room and left orders not to b^ called, About 11 a.m. I woke 



312 ^ ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

up, had dinner, and found myself so used up that I could 
hardly walk. 

Yreka presented an altogether different appearance than 
it did when I left it in 1857. One thing more noticeable 
to me than anything else was the trees that lined the streets 
and the fruit that was growing in every yard, where there 
was not a shrub, tree, or flower when I left the town. There 
were some new buildings and neat cottages, but the popula- 
tion of the immediate town was less than when I left it. 
After some inquiry, I found that five residents I formerly 
knew were still there, which I thought quite remarkable for 
California. My old friend Tom Bantz, who went home on 
the same ship with me in 1857, had returned the year after 
and was now a resident of the town. It took but a short 
time to find him, but I found him a wreck, crippled with 
rheumatism, and limbs and arms out of shape, but other- 
wise as jolly and lively as ever. Tom was very glad to 
see me, but was poor, and, as he told me, was only waiting 
to die. I had a sad but enjoyable visit with him. One 
thing he had retained, and that was his love for whisky, 
though he told me he had not drank to excess for many 
years. We had a couple of drinks together, and that loos- 
ened his tongue and brightened him up wonderfully. Tom 
was himself again, but he was not able to be out again the 
next day. Poor Tom! He was his worst enemy. When I 
shook hands with him, to part forever, the tears rolled down 
his cheeks and he could not speak a loud word. I could 
hardly suppress my own feelings, and it was a sad and alm.ost 
silent parting of old friends. He died a few years after, a 
victim of King Alcohol. The other four old acquaintances 
were all well fixed and doing well, all first-rate citizens, with 
.whom I had a good visit, 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 313 

I visited Scott's Valley and the other little towns scattered 
throughout the valley, spending a couple of days selling 
goods. I did very well, and went back to Yreka. Having a 
desire to visit Canal Gulch, where I used to mine, I wended 
my way across the fields to my old mines, where I spent two 
and a half years in placer mining. The hills and mountains 
were all fam.iliar, but the spot where my old cabin home 
had been was completely obliterated, and I could not tell 
within fifty feet where it stood. The whole gulch was washed 
full of dirt and gravel, fifteen or twenty feet deep. 

As I stood on the site of the old cabin I could look back 
with my mind's eye and see things as they were, but where 
were those hundreds of stalwart men I once knew. Echo 
answers, Where ? There is not a more dreary place on earth 
than an old worked-out mine. I did not stay long, it was 
too lonesome. There was not a man, woman, or child in 
sight, and yet the old hills and mountains seemed to welcome 
me: I walked back to tov/n with old memories freshened, 
but gained nothing. 

The next morning I took the stage for Ashland, Oregon, 
a twelve hours' ride. We had a full load of passengers, 
the day was fine, and the scenery grand, but as I had seen 
it years before there was nothing new to me. From the 
summit of the Siskiyou Mountains there are places where 
the scenery is unique and most beautiful, with the snow-clad 
mountains, most of which are covered with the finest of tim- 
ber, hardly touched by the hand of man. In the fall of 1854, 
with a companion, I passed over this same route, leading 
an Indian pony, with our blankets and mining tools packed 
on his back. Thirty years had wrought but little change 
that I could see, but there were great changes going on. 
Since then I have crossed the Siskiyou Mountains, in sum- 



314 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

mer and winter, by rail, which presents much finer views 
than any seen from the stage route. 

At the foot of the mountains we paid one dollar each for 
the privilege of lying on the floor, finding our own blankets, 
and using our boots for pillows. There was not a house 
or a shanty where Ashland now stands. The only town in 
that whole section of country, at the time we were there, 
in 1854, was Jacksonville, a mining town; Medhurst is now 
the station for Jacksonville on the railroad. 

We arrived at Ashland before night, and I stopped there 
several days, doing a pretty good business. It was quite a 
thriving town, and at that time the terminus of the railroad 
from Portland. 

I was glad to get through staging. After finishing up 
my business at Ashland, I took the train for Roseburg, Ore- 
gon, where I made my next stop. During my stay at Ash- 
land I drove over to Jacksonville, where in 1854 I stopped 
for dinner, and in looking over the old town found the old 
log hotel (now used as a barn) where we stopped thirty 
years before. 

Roseburg, Oregon, is a town of some importance, and I 
did some business there. My next stopping place was Eugene 
City, on the head waters of the Willamette River, in the 
Willamette Valley, the next largest valley to the Sacramento 
Valley on the coast. This valley was settled long before 
gold was discovered in California. It is a rich country, but 
very damp most of the year. One noticeable feature is that 
all the roofs of the houses are covered with green moss, 
as well as all the fences and fruit trees. At that time most 
of the people were from Missouri, and it was like being set 
back in that State, as far as manners and methods were 
concerned, especially the way the hogs ran loose in the 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 315 

small towns, keeping the sides of the streets well cultivated, 
a perfect counterpart of Missouri towns. 

Eugene City was more advanced and considerable busi- 
ness was being done there. Albany, my next stop, is a 
place of considerable importance, with the town of Corvallis, 
on the west side of the river, a few miles away, also a thriv- 
ing town, though not as large as Albany. 

There was one thing I noticed in Corvallis while there. 
On* the resident streets the lots were fifty to one hundred 
feet frontage, with. plenty of room for a garden. The soil is 
rich and capable of raising all kinds of garden truck, but 
the residents were buying cabbage heads at ten cents per 
head, brought from San Francisco by steamer. I asked a 
man who had a cabbage under his arm, carrying it home, 
why he did not raise his own cabbage. **Oh," says he, "we 
never tried it." "Look over there in that patch," says I, 
"the weeds seem to grow finely, and I know that land will 
grow cabbages as well as weeds." "Wal, stranger, I reckon 
you are right, but I never see'd anyone raise 'em." 

People in the farming section of the country in Oregon, 
as well as California, never raise anything they can buy. 
Wheat and barley, barley and wheat, and nothing else — not 
even chickens. 

From Albany I went to Salem, the capital of the State, 
most beautifully situated, and seemed to be flourishing. I 
stayed there for several days, and on leaving the place, on an 
early train going north, was in the first railroad accident of 
my life. We were crossing a bridge, about six miles from 
Salem, when the bridge broke down, and the tender fell 
through, and the other cars piled up on it, or turned over, 
bottom side up, in the mud and water, about ten or twelve 
feet below the track. 



3i6 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

All the cars of the train, except the locomotive and the 
rear passenger car, that had no passengers in it, were 
wrecked. The car I was in stood at an angle of forty-five 
degrees, and we were all more or less bruised. No one 
was killed outright, but two or three were considered fatally 
injured. We were all taken back, after some delay, to 
Salem and cared for at the railroad's expense. The uninjured 
and slightly injured were sent on that afternoon. 

The bridge had been set on fire during the night, and 
the ties almost burned off, where the accident happened. It 
is supposed that it was done by tramps or some enemy of 
the road. 

I reached Oregon City that night and got through with 
my business the next day, and went to Portland. I reached 
that place, July 3, 18(84. The next day, July 4th, was the 
first day that it did not rain more or less since I left Yreka, 
California, and I thought the country was rightly named as 
the *'web-foot" country. At Portland I stopped for some 
weeks, with trips radiating in every direction, going as far 
north as Port Townsend, visiting all the important towns 
about the Sound — Seattle, Tacoma, etc. — without any par- 
ticular mishap, but did a good business, saw the country, and 
enjoyed myself as I generally do, returning to Portland after 
a couple of weeks. 

After a few days I went up the Columbia River and saw 
what I consider one of the grandest sights on the continent 
in the way of scenery. Its magnitude is what makes it so 
grand. The formation of the rocks, the various falls, the 
old block house where Sheridan first distinguished himself 
in fighting the Indians, the rapids of the river, and the 
steamboat canal that the government is building; the con- 
tinual change in the formation of the different kinds of rock, 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 317 

the Multonomah Falls, one of the most remarkable in the 
United States, and so on, until you reach the Dalles, where 
the river looks as though you could almost jump across it, 
yet so deep that it carries an immense quantity of water, 
spreading out over a mile wide when it reaches the moun- 
tains. This ride up or down the Columbia River through 
the Cascade Mountains was the most impressive to me of 
any I had ever seen, and no matter how many times you may 
see it it always affords a new interest. 

I went as far east as Walla Walla, and then returned, after 
having enjoyed an afternoon in fishing for speckled trout 
in the Walla Walla Creek, with very fair success. Here 
I had an introduction to John Sherman, then Senator from 
Ohio, who was making a tour of the Western country. He 
visited the cavalry military post, located near Walla Walla. 

When I returned to Portland and finished up my business 
there, I had orders from Becht to "eturn by steamer to San 
Francisco. My trip had been a most enjoyable one, and I 
had seen a large portion of our country that I had never 
seen before. 

In a few days Becht started me on a trip through the 
southern part of the State, stoppmg first at Modesto, then 
taking in all the principal towns to Los Angeles, and from 
there to San Bernardino, Riverside, Pomona, and other 
towns. Then I went back to Los Angeles, then by steamer 
to San Diego, where I stayed for a week. It was now No- 
vember, and I took the steamer from there to San Luis 
Obispo. I stopped here over Sunday, and took the next 
steamer for San Francisco. I was at home through Decem- 
ber and January, 1885, when Mr. Becht, having secured the 
agency for the Hayward Hand Grenade, started me north 
again to make public exhibitions of putting out fires and 



3i8 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

selling the grenades. During the winter there had been 
great strife between the Harden Hand Grenade and the Hay- 
ward Hand Grenade, with not much advantage to either, 
both being good, but, as I thought, the Hayward bottle broke 
the most readily, and therefore proved the best in many a 
well-fought contest, in which a great deal of bitterness on 
the part of the Harden folks was shown. 

Agents of the Harden had visited the greater part of the 
coast, and we came together for the first time at San Fran- 
cisco. The fight between the two agents in the press and on 
the streets was a very amusing affair to outsiders, but costly 
for the proprietors. 

A man by the name of Gross, from Chicago, handled the 
Harden and was a hustler. When I took the steamer at 
San Francisco for Portland, Oregon, in the last part of 
February, I found Mr. Gross on board, going to Portland to 
push the sale of the Harden Hand Grenade. I said nothing, 
and Mr. Gross did not know that I represented the Hayward 
Grenade. He talked considerably and gave me an inkling 
of his plans, one of which was that he intended to have a fire 
to demonstrate the superiority of his grenade over all others. 
He had two or three expert men with him to put out fires 
and astonish the Portlanders. When I got to Portland I 
engaged Ed. Post, and old friend and acquaintance of mine, 
to assist me in getting the **Hayward" before the public. 
We had had no experience in handling the grenade, so we 
concluded to experiment a little. 

Mr; Post lived in South Portland, and we took a box of 
grenades out to his residence and made our preparations 
to build and put out a fire and learn how to do it. In a day 
or two Gross had an exhibition and put out a fire near the 
center of the town. Then he had flaming accounts of it in 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 319 

all the papers, and commenced to canvass the town for the 
sale of his grenade. The next day after Gross's exhibition 
Post and I in his back yard started in to test our grenade. 
The first two fires we started we failed to put out, but the 
third one was a complete success. We first secured a vacant 
lot, then advertised in the papers that there would be an 
exhibition of the Hayward Hand Grenade to show its su- 
periority over the Harden. A well-known citizen of Port- 
land, not an expert, would handle the grenades. The ad. 
took. Post was known to almost everybody in Portland, 
having been born and raised there. We built our structure, 
and we had a larger crowd than Gross had. Gross and his 
men predicted a great failure, but when we put the fire 
completely out with two grenades (while it took eight to 
put their fire out), the enthusiasm among the crowd of peo- 
ple was intense. All the daily papers gave us a great puff 
without the asking. This so enraged Gross that he adver- 
tised another exhibition, but he did not have much of a 
crowd, and it took a dozen grenades to put out his fire, and 
we gained a complete victory over the Harden. I made Post 
our resident agent at Portland, placed advertisements in the 
papers, and after a few days started north, making my first 
stop at Chehalis, Washington, where I had an exhibition 
that was a success. 

From thence I went to Tacoma and Seattle, Port Towns- 
end, and then was ordered to Victoria, B. C., to establish 
an agency. When I arrived at Victoria Gross's experts 
were there and had been for ten days, and had had a fire 
and sold some grenades. I stopped at the American Hotel, 
where I found them, and they were so mad that they threat- 
ened violence to me, but the landlord took my part. The 
next- day I ckanged to a private hotel, where I was better 



320 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

accommodated. An American woman from San Francisco 
kept the house, and I being* about the only American in the 
house, she gave me the best room she had, and took first-rate 
care of me. The house was filled with young Englishmen, 
mostly single. A few had their wives. Not one of them had 
ever been in the United States and knew nothing of our ways 
and customs. Among them were dukes and lords, with 
sons and daughters, and I had a good opportunity to study 
the Englishman as he is *'at 'ome." Some of them were 
regular snobs and put on a great many airs, and had a great 
deal to say in derision of American manners and customs. 
Of course, I felt like calling them down, and did so in a 
few instances, but I was in a foreign country alone, and 
they would not listen to me for a moment. It was very 
amusing to me to find how very green they were regarding 
the United States and the manners and customs of our peo- 
ple. I asked them a great many questions, and they asked 
many in return, but nothing could compare with what they 
** 'ad hin England at 'ome." Some of them did not drop the 
*'h's,'' but most of them did. The ladies were much more 
ignorant about our country than the men. Though most of 
them were healthy, hearty looking women, they did not seem 
to have that self-confident and self-reliant bearing that our 
American women have. Although I was at the house but 
a week, I got more insight into the English character than 
I had in all my life before. 

The next day after my arrival the Harden men got out 
handbills and advertised to give one more exhibition of 
their grenade. I learned that I had to get a permit from 
the chief of the fire department of Victoria and also the 
mayor of the city before I could start a fire for exhibition 
purposes. The father of the man who wanted the agency 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 321 

became very enthusiastic over the matter and told me that 
the mayor never would have been mayor but for his influ- 
ence, and he thought he could get him to sign a permit for 
me to make an exhibition. I learned that the mayor had 
promised that he would not allow any one else to start a 
fire except the Harden folks ; therefore it looked rather blue 
for me. But the old gentleman, his son, and myself started 
out to see the chief of the fire department, and after some 
parleying got him to sign the permit; then, by the advice 
of the old gentleman, waited until the next morning to meet 
the mayor at his office before applying to him. 

The next morning we were on hand at the mayor's office 
waiting for him to come. After a while he made his appear- 
ance and I was introduced to him and stated my business. 
He shook his head and said he could not consent. The old 
gent took him off to another room, and they had some pretty 
lively talk, but it was not more than ten minutes before the 
mayor came back and affixed his signature to the permit, 
seemingly very much out of humor. I thanked him and we 
left. I immediately got out a handbill, naming the night 
after the Harden trial, and had it distributed about town. 
The public, finding there was opposition to the Harden, 
made the attendance at their fire quite a large one. 

When their trial came it took the two so-called experts 
and nine grenades some time to put out the fire. The next 
day we put up our lumber and light wood, saturated with 
coal oil, for our fire, and before the time of starting the 
attendance was nearly double the number that the Harden 
folk had the night before. I stated to the people in a short 
speech that in order to show them the superiority of the 
Hayward Hand Grenade over the Harden I would let one 
of their citizens, who had never handled a grenade, put out 



322 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

the fire and do It easier than the experts of the Harden did; 
I then introduced the young man, whom everybody knew. 
The people cheered him on. We started the fire, and when 
it was well started the young man put it out with four 
grenades, beating the Harden folks by five grenades, and we 
had the largest fire. That settled the Harden people. They 
acknowledged defeat, shook hands with me, and said, ''You 
have too much sand for us." I never met the Harden at 
any other town. I established the agency with an order 
for fifty cases and took the first steamer for Seattle. I had 
good success here and made many sales, and after visiting 
a number of other towns returned to Portland, Oregon, 
having made a satisfactory trip through that country. 

I arrived at Portland May 6, 1885, where I received orders 
to go to Alkali. After attending to business in Portland 
until the nth, I took the train up the Columbia River. After 
a day at Alkali I returned to Portland, arriving on the 13th 
of May. I was not well, almost tired out, and I took a few 
days' rest to recuperate a little. 

On the 22d I left Portland for Eugene City, in the Wil- 
lamette Valley. I arrived there all right, but found they 
had had a fire there in April, and could not put it out with 
Harden grenades, of which they had a lot on hand. I offered 
to compete with the Harden agent at that place, but he would 
not do it. So I made no test at Eugene, but went farther 
up the river to Cottage Grove, and had a good test there, 
and went back to Eugene City. 

On May 28th I left Eugene City for Salem and Independ- 
ence. I had a test at Independence, and it was a good one. 
Then I went to Portland on the soda business, then back 
again to Salem. 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 323 

On June 5th I had a good fire test there. Having made 
tests all over that part of the country, and put ads. in nearly 
all the newspapers, I left Portland and went to Walla Walla. 
I arrived there on June loth to give a test and hold myself 
subject to orders. So again I had the pleasure of passing 
up the beautiful Columbia River and its wonderful scenery. 

After arriving in Walla Walla I made preparations for a 
fire and test of the hand grenade. An editor of one of the 
papers of that town said he had some hand grenades in his 
office, but they were good for nothing. I told him if they 
were the Hayward I would show him that they were good 
if he would let me use them to put the fire out. He agreed, 
and I put the fire out with four of them in good shape. I 
went from Walla Walla to Dayton, W. T., where I had a 
good test and sold a number of cases. I passed through as 
fine a wheat country as I ever saw. I returned to Walla 
Walla and visited Randall's folks, had a good visit, and then 
started for Weston and Pendleton, Oregon. 

I had a good test at Weston and took the stage for Pen- 
dleton, over a rolling country, through almost a continuous 
wheat field, until we reached the Indian Reservation. I for- 
get the name of the tribe, but they were good specimens of 
the red man. I got to Pendleton all right and had a test 
there. I did very well, and then over the mountains to 
Round Valley. I stopped at La Grande, a lively little town, 
where I had a test in a gale of wind, but put the fire out 
all right. From thence I went to Union and had a test 
before the board of trustees on the Fourth of July, with ex- 
cellent success, and took orders from the board, and left in 
due time for Baker City, where I had a fine test and did 
very well. I then left for a little town called Huntington, 
a few miles from where the O. R. & N. crosses the Snake 



324 ^ ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

River Into Idaho. I wrote a little sketch of the town and 
sent it to the Alameda Argus, a copy of which I will give, 
as it is better than I can do now : 

"Snake River Country, Oregon and Idaho, July 23, 1885. 

''Editor Argus: — One hundred degrees in the shade is too 
hot for my mental powers to be very active, as it requires 
a great deal of exertion to manage red-hot ideas, for they 
might give the wrong impression of the country I am trying 
to write up so faithfully. You have heard of Huntington, 
Oregon, I presume. It is near the end of Burnt River, a 
small creek of no particular dimensions except in a cloud- 
burst and for use of the railroad. Huntington was discov- 
ered by the railroad and was a miserable discovery. You 
have, no doubt, when quite young heard your mother say 
what you thought then very bad words when she had made a 
nice large cake (the pride of her heart) and through some 
mishap, or poor yeast, it came out of the oven with a large 
hole in the center, which spoiled the appearance of it en- 
tirely, and the cake was divided up between the children, 
dogs, and the swill barrel. Huntington occupies the same 
place on the face of the earth as the hole occupied in the 
face of the cake, and is divided up into swill, dogs, and a few 
children, poor liquor, and a large new railroad hotel, built 
at a cost of six thousand dollars, which is five thousand 
eight hundred and ninety-seven dollars more than all the 
rest of the town is worth, outside the hotel (not finished 
yet). 

"The thermometer at this time of the year reaches 116 de- 
grees on the shady side of a saloon (there is no other shade 
there, except one Ethiopian cook). The hotel is a joint en- 
terprise of the O. R. & N. Co. and the Oregon Short Line 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 325 

Co. The water there is strongly tinctured with alkah. You 
change cars and stop one hour and fifteen minutes — just that 
much time too long. If you want to know any more about it 
you had better get some other fellow to describe it, as I 
feel a sort of goneness from the effort to do the miserable 
place jutsice, and at the same time keep solid with the rail- 
road. 

"I left the place with many regrets that I had to stay so 
long. Good bye, Huntington! Pantingly I part with thee, 
hoping to see thee never more. 

'*\Ve cross the Snake River soon after into Idaho, and roll 
along at eight cents a mile through a splendid crop of sage 
brush as far as the eye could reach. Don't think I ever 
saw a better crop even in the sage-brush State. The Oregon 
Legislature by some miraculous means let the railroad in 
that State carry us over a much better road and better coun- 
try at four cents per mile, which I could never quite under- 
stand. The California Legislature, with their commissioners, 
won't let the railroads do it in that State. They are not so 
poor there. As the Snake River valley widened, the more 
sage brush you could see. There arc some few people set- 
tled along the streams and some fertile spots where you could 
cut a whole load of hay. One enthusiastic Idahoan fellow 
passenger said it was the finest kind of land, only it needed 
irrigation. I was not prepared to dispute him, and his man- 
ner indicated an acquiescence on my part, as his coat tail 
lifted in the breeze from the opposite window when he arose 
to make his argument more effective and to inform me that 
as a stock country it excelled all others. I am satisfied there 
is a good deal of stock there, for as we whirled along I 
could see jack rabbits running in every direction, with a 
coyote now and then in the dim distance, This information 



326 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

was confirmed by a quiet old lady in the seat back of me, 
whom I asked if the women voted in Idaho. She informed 
me that they did not, but in a close vote they sometimes 
voted mules. She also informed me that the reason of our 
seeing so many jack rabbits was that they had been down 
to the river to take a swim ; that it was customary for them 
to go every afternoon to the river and perform their ablu- 
tions. I saw their tails were all black, as though covered 
with mud, and remarked it, but she smiled, and I informed 
her that I was not posted in regard to the habits of beasts. 
At that moment the train stopped at a tent and corral and 
she left. I was real sorry to have her leave, as I could, no 
doubt, have gained considerable information that would be 
reliable, for you know it is much better to get facts fresh 
from the resident people of a country than to rely upon what 
drummers and tourists say that somebody else has told. 1 
did intend to go as far as Boise City with this letter, but 
shall have to cut it short, I am afraid, as I found a rather 
uninteresting ride of fifteen miles by stage to Boise over a 
vast field of sage brush and lava rock and not a drop of 
water." 

I arrived at Boise all right, had a fine test, and did very 
well with the grenades there. I visited the G. A. R. post 
of that place and had a good time generally. I went from 
Boise to Shoshone, and had another good test there, and 
then started for Ogden, Utah, where I had a test. From 
here I went to Salt Lake City, where I found the weather 
very hot. At the Walker House I met Josh Billings, and 
our just-appointed Minister to China, the Honorable Mr. 
Denby. I think that was July 31, 1885. After a stay of a 
few days at Salt Lake City I went back to Ogden, and from 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 327 

there to Park City, where I had a test and did some busi- 
ness with the Mormons. I returned to Ogden almost sick 
and tired out. The weather was very hot. Becht wrote me 
to come to San Francisco, but stop on my way at Reno, 
Truckee, Nevada, and Grass Valley, giving" tests on my re- 
turn wherever I thought best. I made a test at Truckee, but 
at none of the other places, and arrived at San Francisco 
on the 17th of August, having been away for six months. 
My trip was a very satisfactory one to my employer, but 
I had to work hard to make it so. I did not miss making a 
good test on the whole trip. 

I stayed about the Bay and went to Stockton and some 
other places until September the 20th, when I started for 
Napa and the towns north with plated ware and soda stock 
for Becht. I went to St. Helena, Calistoga, Healdsburg, 
Lakeport, and then around to Ukiah and down to Peteluma 
and back to San Francisco. I was gone thirteen days and 
had a fine trip. On the 8th of October I started for Dixon 
with the hand grenade. I made a good test there and then 
went on to Oroville, made a good test there, and then on to 
Marysville. I had a good test there and did very well. 
Marysville has got to be a regular hole in the ground. I 
went upon the levee and looked down upon the old brick 
building that was occupied by the Adams Express in 1853, 
where I landed from the steamer, with a foot of water on 
the floor. The river Yuba was running forty feet above the 
floor of the same building at that time, and I stood at least 
forty feet higher on top of the levee, looking down on the 
building, at an angle of forty-five degrees. Some day 
Marysville will be swallowed up by a flood and become a 
buried city. Thousands of dollars are spent every year to 
raise the levee above the city, but I think the city is doomed 



328 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

as sure as the sun shines. From thence I went to Chico, then 
left for San Francisco and home. 

Previous to my trip to the northern towns Becht and I 
went to Santa Cruz and Watsonville and had two fine fire 
tests. 

My friend, I. N. Chapman, got me a position as city super- 
intendent to put in a Hne of sewers in Alameda, which took 
me a month or more to complete. I went over to see my 
old friend, Judge Beehtel, at Fruitvale, where I had a good 
visit with him and his good wife. 

On the 9th of December I was examined for life insurance 
in the Great Western Mutual Aid Association of Denver, 
Colorado, in which I was wofully taken in after paying the 
policy for ten years or more, this being the second time 
that I had been taken in by life-insurance swindles, but that 
ended the business with me. 

The nth of December, which was my wife's birthday, 
we celebrated quietly at home. A couple of years before 
I had bought of a Mrs. Parsons a lot in the city of Alameda, 
on the installment plan. Paid for it and still own it. 

On the 17th of December, 1885, with Mr. George Henrie, 
I bought out a fruit store on Fourth Street, San Francisco, 
near Market Street, of P. H. Woods, and went into the fruit 
business. We did very well for a while, until Mr. Henrie 
sent for his son, a boy of twenty, and put him in with me. 
He was a pretty wild youth, and thought more about his 
own pleasure and the girls than he did of business. He was 
a fine-looking young man, and not a bad boy by any means, 
but was not the kind of partner to have for success, conse- 
quently I sold out to him for about the same as I had put 
into the business and was glad to do it. This was the first 
of April, 1886. Mr. Henrie, the old gentleman, was a fine 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 329 

old gentleman, a mining expert by profession and in the 
employ of a large mining company who were opening up an 
extensive mine in Mexico. After the father left for Mexico 
the son had no one to hold him back, and after buying me 
out he spent the money faster than he could make it. He 
lasted until the fall, when he failed, and went back to Pueblo, 
Colorado, where he came from. 

About the 20th of May I bought out a fruit store at 1657 
Mission Street and started in alone with a clerk, and in a 
few days opened with very good prospects. I made a suc- 
cess of it from the start, and did remarkably well, consid- 
ering the opposition that I had to contend with. My wife 
still ran her place on Twenty-Second Street, where we made 
our home; in fact, kept it going all summer, when we sold 
out and she moved in with me, and we kept house in rooms 
back of the store. I needed her help very much, as she was 
a splendid saleswoman, well liked by the customers, and our 
business was very prosperous. For a couple of years our 
bank account grew and we did well. The business was a 
little hard on me, I had to work so many hours, and my old 
trouble of neuralgia* began to trouble me considerably, and 
I had several spells of rather severe sickness. The effects 
of the war and prison life down South were beginning to 
show, and my nervous system was being badly broken up, 
but my will power exceeded my physical powers, and though 
I began to fail gradually my mental faculties remained in- 
tact, and I kept on. 

My neuralgia was getting worse, and the terrible pains 
came more frequently and lasted longer. If I took cold I 
was sure to have neuralgia. If I got wet it was sure to bring 
it on, or if I lost my sleep it was sure to bring on an attack. 
Slowly but surely I could see myself going down. During 



330 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

the years 1887-88-89 I kept on, but was getting so nervous 
that I could hardly write a legible hand, and I began trying 
harder to get a pension, so that I could, with what we had, 
have something to fall back upon, quit business, and take 
a rest, which I knew I must have, or get help in some way. 
My wife was not well and needed rest also. Time wore on, 
and I was getting worse, yet I seemed to have no particular 
organic trouble. My friend, Tom Burns, who was in the 
same business on Seventh Street, San Francisco, used to 
talk to me about my condition, and said I had better sell out 
and take a trip East, but I hardly thought that I could afford 
it; therefore kept on. 

I had a severe fit of sickness in December, 1889, but Dr. 
Donnelly brought me out, except the nervous trouble. In 
January, 1890, I had a bad attack of neuralgia, and was laid 
up in bed for some days with inflammation of the eyes and 
neuralgia. My wife was almost sick and hardly able to be 
about. Whenever I took cold or got wet I was sure to have 
neuralgia, yet I did not give up, though at times things 
looked rather blue. We had a very good young man for a 
clerk, and he kept the business going very well under the 
direction of myself and my friend, Tom Burns. About this 
time J. H. Beasley came to see me with a newly married 
wife ; he was a brother to my wife and a travelling salesman 
for a furniture firm in Grand Rapids, Michigan. He loved 
his whisky too well to suit me, and we were not as congenial 
as might be. 

On February ist I had another attack of neuralgia in my 
eyes and did not sleep for ten days and nights. 

On February loth I began to improve a little, and got so 
that I could be about again. I was pretty badly off now 
^nd then to the ist of March, when I felt fairly well. My 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 331 

wife was not well and seemed to be getting worse, but 
would have no doctor or take any medicine. I could see 
that she was failing. I had no more attacks during the 
month of March. 

On April 2d I went before the examining board to be 
examined for a pension. On the morning of April 3d 
'I was caught in a shower of rain and got wet through. 
(The neuralgia set in in a few hours in both eyes and grew 
worse all the while. They sent for Dr. Donnelly, but he 
could not ease me. The pain was most excruciating, and 
I simply had to yell and could not suppress it. It was like 
sticking red-hot needles through my eye balls with scarcely 
a moment's relapse. An ulcer commenced growing on my 
left eye at night, April 3d, and in forty-eight hours com- 
pletely covered my eye, and I was totally blind in that eye. 
No ulcer came on the right eye, but it pained me just as 
bad as the left. My right eye had been the poorest eye since 
the war, consequently I was practically a blind man. For 
eighteen days and nights I had little sleep, and the darting 
pains of neuralgia were almost incessant. People stood 
around about the room watching to see me die, for I was 
becoming so exhausted that I could hardly move myself in 
bed. A 4 per cent, solution of cocaine gave momentary re- 
lief, but only for a few seconds. It seemed to me that I 
would give anything I had or ever expected to have for an 
hour's sleep. On the nineteenth day I fell asleep for a few 
moments, then a little longer each day, until I could sleep 
for an hour or more, but the pain was continually with me. 
The little sleep that I got kept up my strength. I was a little 
better on May 7th, and that day my wife had to go to bed 
very sick, and we had to have a nurse night and day, as she 
was out of her head most of th^ time and continually fail- 



332 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

ing. I was no better, and my horse was taken sick and 
became useless. 

On the 17th of May I had to have my wife sent to St. 
Luke's Hospital, where she could have better care. On the 
226. I rode out with an attendant to the hospital to see my 
wife, but I suffered intolerably all the way there and back. 
She said she knew me, but I could see she was fast sinking 
and could not live long. On the morning of the 24th of 
May, 1890, she died, and was buried on the 26th at the 
Veteran's Point Lobas Cemetery, San Francisco. I rode to 
the grave in a hack, but was not able to walk to the grave. 
We had lived together for twenty-four years, or since De- 
cember 31st, 1865. God bless her! 

My ride to the funeral nearly drove me mad with pain, 
and I suffered from it terribly. I had become very thin in 
flesh and did not seem to be getting any better, but rather 
worse. My eyes were no better and the pain continued. 

About the last day in May my friend, Mr. M. V. B. Wat- 
son, made me a visit, and says he, *'Mr. Porter, you are 
badly off, but keep up good courage ; maybe I can help you 
some way." ''Yes," said I, "I know it, I feel myself going, 
it is only a question of vitality now how long I will last ; but 
there is one request I have to make of you, and that is I 
wish you to make out a will for me. I wish to will every- 
thing that I have to you, and when you get it made out 
bring it up with a couple of witnesses. I feel that you are, 
and have been, my best friend on this coast, and I want you 
to have what little I have left. My doctor comes here twice 
a day, yet does me no good and gives me no encouragement. 
I am losing flesh and strength, and, in fact, it looks to me 
as though I will soon follow my wife. I am not despondent 
or very much discouraged, but cannot stand this very long." 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 333 

"Well," says he, 'Til see what I can do for you, and will 
be up to see you in a few days again." 

In about five days, or sixty-five days after my attack, Mr. 
Watson came again and brought with him an instrument 
called the Electropoise, with a book of directions. He said 
he wished me to try it, as it was making some remarkable 
cures in the East, and he had been asked to take the agency 
for this coast, but he knew nothing about it ; but if it would 
cure me he thought it would be worth while and he would 
take it. ''But," says he, "you will have to stop taking all 
medicine." "Well," said I, "I am taking eight doses per 
day, besides treatment of the eyes, and I hardly see how I 
can discharge the doctor, as he has to treat my eyes twice a 
day." "Well," said he, "get some friend in whom you have 
confidence and have him read the book of directions, and 
manage it some way not to take any medicine. I sent for 
this instrument by telegraph as soon as I left you the other 
day, and here it is. I think it will do no harm to try it." 
"Mr. W^atson, I know that you would not advise me to do 
anything that was wrong, and I'll try it. It does not make 
any difference one way or the other." 

After Mr. Watson had gone N. G. Tobey, a good friend of 
mine, came in, and I explained the matter to him, and he 
became enthusiastic right away and commenced reading the 
book. 

It was all Greek to us about charge and reaction, and the 
rest of the terms, "but as to the no-medicine, I can fix that," 
said Tobey. So he got some empty vials and pill boxes and 
said: "We'll commence at once. Now, when it is time to 
take your medicine, you take the regular dose and drop it 
into the empty boxes and bottles instead of taking it. Put 
them out of sight until the medicine is all out, then do the 



334 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

same thing over again. Now," he says, "that settles the 
medicine question. The next thing is how to apply the 
instrument." So he got the thing ready at once for appU- 
cation. Between eight and nine p.m. that evening I was 
snugly tucked up in bed, with the Electropoise attached 
according to directions, and suffering from pain in my eyes 
as usual. The next morning when Tobey came around to 
see me there seemed to be no change that I could notice, 
only I was no weaker. When the old doctor came to treat 
my eyes and look over my stock of medicine, he thought my 
pulse was better; anyhow I was no worse. At night when 
Tobey came- we applied the instrument the same as the night 
before, and I thought I slept better, but the pain woke me 
in the morning the same as usual. 

The doctor said that my medicine was getting low, and I 
must send for a fresh supply. I felt very weak and had no 
appetite, but the pain was not quite so severe, I thought. 
So on the third night we applied the instrument again, and 
Tobey replenished the medicine by putting in sight well- 
filled boxes and bottles of the stuff that we had in reserve, 
as I had not taken a single dose since I commenced the Elec- 
tropoise treatment. My appetite was gone, and I drank 
only a glass of milk the whole day. In the morning, after 
using the machine for three nights I thought that the pain 
did not come quite as often, or stay as long, although it 
was just as severe as before. Tobey had been to see me, and 
also the doctor, but I was weaker, I thought. About ten 
A.M. the neuralgia made one jump through both eyes and 
down my neck to the left arm, between the shoulders and 
elbow, which made me yell out. I was alone and lay quiv- 
ering, expecting another shock every moment, but hour after 
hour wore away, and no pain came back, but I was very 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 335 

weak, and when Tobey came at night to see tne I told him 
all about it, and he fairly danced with joy to think that the 
pain was all gone. That was the sixty-eighth day since the 
pain commenced, and I was almost afraid to move for fear 
of its return. Tobey read me the book again, and we con- 
cluded to put the Electropoise on ice that night and try it at 
a higher power. So Tobey got a large piece of ice and 
scooped out a hole in the center and imbedded the electro- 
poise in it, rolled it up in a woollen blanket and attached it 
to my ankle or wrist, I forget which, and I went to bed at 
just nine p.m. Tobey bade me good-night, and I lay there 
alone, expecting a return of the pain every moment. After 
about an hour I seemed to be burning up and had the queer- 
est feelings in my head and all over me that I ever had in 
my life, but the neuralgia did not return. At eleven p.m. the 
button, or treating plate, began to burn like a hot iron, then 
got hotter, until it seemed that it was burning a hole in my 
ankle ; besides, I was in the greatest misery imaginable and 
I could scarcely breathe. I stood it until twelve p.m., and 
then, more dead than alive, took it off. The peculiar feelings 
kept on the same as before, but wore off at the same rate 
as they came on until three a.m., when I was about the same 
as when I put it on. I dropped to sleep as soon as I heard 
the clock strike three, and did not wake up again till after 
nine o'clock the same morning, so weak that I could not 
stand up, but there was no return of the pain. I was awfully 
thirsty, and could not drink enough. I must have looked 
terribly haggard, as the old doctor said that he never saw 
me look so bad, yet could find no symptoms that I was 
worse. He seemed very much puzzled that his medicine 
should work that way. I said but little; in fact, was too 
weak to talk. After the ordeal I went through in those six 



336 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

hours I thought it was a wonder that I was alive. When 
Tobey came to see me at noon I was a Httle better, but had 
no appetite, and was as weak as ever. I did not suffer much 
that day, except with weakness, but the pain had left me 
and my eyes seemed better, but I was almost entirely blind. 

When Tobey came at night he read the book again to 
me, and we decided to try the treatment again, the same as 
the night before. So about nine p.m. I went to bed, hoping 
that I would not suffer as I had the night before. For a 
short time, half an hour perhaps, I did not feel much change, 
then the treating plate began to burn, and I suffered all the 
horrors of the inquisition, worse, if possible, than the night 
before. I stood it for an hour or more and went through 
the same feeling as before taking it off, only I suffered 
longer, and the effects of the treatment did not wear 
away as quickly as before ; but I finally got to sleep and I 
slept to ten o'clock, just as the old doctor came. I covered 
up the apparatus as best I could, so he should not see any- 
thing of it. I was so weak that he said he would wait 
till the afternoon and call again. 

Aside from my weakness, I felt better; at least, my eyes 
felt better about noon, and I got my magnifying glass and 
tried to read the directions, but could make out only a few 
words ; but saw the statement that when certain symptorhs 
appear you must stop the treatment. I had all these symp- 
toms, and when Tobey came that night I got him to read 
them over to me again, and told him that I should not try it 
again very soon ; in fact, thought the thing would kill me. 
''But, d — n it, don't you know the pain has stopped," says 
Tobey. "Yes," said I, ''but I want to die a little easier than 
to kill myself with that thing." So we came to the con- 
clusion to wait for reaction and see what that would do. I 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 337 

went to bed that night without using it and got a very good 
night's rest, but when I awoke in the morning I was weaker 
than ever. It was an effort to Hft even a finger. The old 
doctor said that he could not understand why I was so weak, 
as there were no other bad symptoms ; in fact, he thought 
all my other symptoms were better. The smell of any food 
made me sick. A glass of milk was all that I had taken 
each day since I began the treatment. Mr. Watson sent 
up to know how I was, and I told Tobey to see him and tell 
him that I thought the thing would kill me, notwithstanding 
the pain had stopped. Mr. Souther came up from Mr. Wat- 
son's office, and, I think, told them on his return that I would 
not live many days, as he had never seen me look so bad, 
and all the people of the neighborhood said that I could not 
live much longer. But Tobey would not give it up. I told 
him that if I could only get over the weakness, and get so 
that I could eat something, I would be all right, as I had 
not a sign of neuralgia. Day after day it was the same. No 
pain, and I slept well, but w^as so weak that I could not 
stand up without holding on to something. A glass of milk 
a day was all that I could take, and I had no relish for that. 

Tobey came to see me three times a day regularly, and the 
old doctor came twice to attend to my eyes. About the sixth 
or seventh day after we quit using the Electropoise I told 
Tobey that I had to have something to give me strength, 
and I believed I would have to go back to medicine. *'You 
are not any Vv^orse, are you?" asked Tobey. "Well, I don't 
know that I am, only weaker, if anything," said I. ''Stick 
to it," said Tobey, for you see the pain has gone." "Yes," 
said I, "but how long have I got to stand this?" 

On the seventh day I thought I felt a little better, and 
the old doctor declared that I was better, but still I had no 



S3S ONE OF^ THE PEOPLE 

appetite, and did not feel any stronger. On the morning 
of the eighth day, when I woke up I knew that I was better, 
and when Tobey came I felt stronger, and the doctor said 
that I was improving, but I did not feel hungry ; yet my milk 
tasted a little better than usual, and after I took it I felt that 
I was gaining strength. Between ten and eleven I began 
to get hungry, and in a little while I was very hungry. I 
was also gaining strength very fast. I called my clerk, and 
told him to bring me a good, large potato, build me a fire, 
get me a loaf of bread, put on the coffee pot, and go to the 
butcher's and get me thirty-five cents' worth of tenderloin 
steak. He opened his eyes in astonishment, and gave me 
a peculiar look, rather suspicious that I was out of my mind. 
I said to him : ''I am a great deal better, and am terribly 
hungry. Get those things as soon as you can — I can't wait." 
He got everything on hand in short order. I made Saratoga 
chips of a large potato, fried in butter, cooked my steak 
exactly to suit me, and sat down, as hungry as a wolf, to 
devour it. The more I ate the hungrier I got, and I kept on 
until I had eaten up the whole of the food, except about 
one-quarter or one-half of the bread, and I drank two cups 
of coffee and a glass of milk. Still I was not satisfied, but 
thought it best to hold on and not overeat. 

I never gained strength so fast in my life as I did for the 
next two hours, and when Tobey came in, about one o'clock 
p.M.^ I was dancing a double shuffle, and feeling better than 
I had for five years. Tobey held up his hands in perfect 
astonishment and laughed until he cried. When he came 
in at night we had a regular jollification meeting all to our- 
selves, reviewing the whole course of my past suffering. 
That was the seventy-ninth day since I was taken sick and 
began to grow blind. 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 339 

That night and the next morning my appetite still held 
good, and when the doctor came to treat my eyes he was 
more astonished than anyone, and said that he never saw a 
man improve so fast in all his life, and that I must keep 
right on with the medicine, although I had not taken a drop 
for the last two weeks, thanks to Tobey for keeping me 
from it, and thanks to the oxygen, for it saved my life, 
though I had to go through a severe ordeal while it was 
eradicating the disease. 

At 2 P.M. I boarded a Mission Street car and started to 
visit Mr. Watson, at his office. After I left the car I had 
to walk a block to reach his office, and then climb a long 
flight of stairs. It was a great effort, but I made it, and 
walked into the office where Mr. Watson, Mr. Souther, and 
John Mulhern were. Those three men were as much sur- 
prised at my appearance, and more so, than they would 
have been had they heard of my death. They could hardly 
believe their eyes at first. I looked more like a corpse than 
a live man, as I was very pale, and nothing but skin and 
bones, but felt very well. I had been confined almost en- 
tirely to my room for eighty days, and had suffered more 
than in all my life before, and now I cannot see how I was 
able to stand it. Thos. A. Burns had been very kind to me 
in a business way. N. G. Tobey was more than kind all 
the way through. Mrs. Whitcombe had looked after me 
every day during my sickness, as well as caring for my wife ; 
also Mrs. Allen and Miss Thompson. Mr. N. Hunter helped 
me very much. I mention these people, as they had been 
especially kind all through my sickness. 

I continued to improve, but was pretty weak, and the 
partial sight of one eye only was left. I sold my store and 
stock to my clerk, Humphrey O'Sullivan, and gave him 



340 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

possession July i, 1890. I got rooms in Alameda, witli 
Mr. Gott, the jeweler, and moved over there July 7. Prev- 
ious to this I had made my will, and willed Mr. M. V. B. 
Watson everything I had. 

Mr. Watson had secured the agency for the Electropoise, 
and I at once set about getting my friends who were ailing 
to try it. They all knew how badly off I had been, and that 
it had cured me of neuralgia, and many of them commenced 
using it, under my directions. I was acting as agent for 
Mr. Watson, and spent all the time I was able in introducing 
it, and in many cases with the most flattering success. The 
acute cases I had no trouble with, but the chronic cases did 
not yield so readily. 

I improved slowly but surely in health, but my sight did 
not improve very much. I was weak, and did not gain flesh, 
so I concluded to accept Em Ludden's invitation to make 
her a visit at her home in Beaumont, Southern California. 
I sailed from San Francisco on the 20th of August, on 
the steamer Santa Rosa, for Los Angeles, and stopped at 
Santa Barbara for a few hours. I arrived at Los Angeles 
on the 22d, and on the 23d took the train for Beaumont, 
where I arrived the same evening, and met Em. Nearly 
thirteen years before I had left her at Grand Island, Neb., 
when she was on the way to marry W. W. Ludden. I made 
them a good long visit, and rested most of the time, gaining 
in strength rapidly but not very much in sight. There was 
no sign of the neuralgia returning, and I felt that life was 
worth living again. After a while I took up quarters at the 
Beaumont Hotel, and applied myself closely in gaining 
my health, until the fore part of November, when I returned 
to San Francisco. 

During the time I had been away I had been studying all 



IN CALIFORNIA AGAIN 34i 

I could and experimenting with the Electropoise on all who 
were ailing, treating them for nothing. I visited Riverside 
and San Bernardino, and sold an instrument at each place, 
also treated one or two at Colton, besides experimenting 
upon myself to a certain extent. I cured Mrs. Ludden of 
a trouble she had, and, taking it all in all, I learned a great 
deal about the effects of oxygen while on this trip. As soon 
as I arrived in San Francisco I at once went to work for 
Mr. Watson, with excellent success in acute cases, and very 
fair on chronic cases, but I was satisfied that I was lame in 
not knowing just what to do in the latter. This made me 
eager for more information, and I saw no way to get it un- 
less I went East and learned from those who knew more 
about it than I did. 

From the time I went back, till New Years, 1891, I was 
very busy, and sold, directly and indirectly, a good many 
instruments and made some remarkable cures. My health 
was steadily improving in everything but sight, but I was 
aware that I used my eyes too much. Up to this time I 
had not made a dollar since I was taken sick, April 3, 1890, 
but the Electropoise had saved my life. I had lost my wife, 
was almost blind, and had spent a great portion of the money 
I had saved, but I always look upon the bright side of life, 
and always kept cheerful, which was natural. 



CHAPTER XIV. 



CLOSING EVENTS. 



On New Year's Day Mr. Watson said to me : ''Well, Mr. 
Porter, I guess we will settle up to date and make arrange- 
ments for the future." ''All right," said I, "how much do 
I owe you, Mr. Watson?" He had been furnishing me 
money to pay expenses, car fare, etc., telling me not to 
spend my money but to call on him when I had used up 
what he had given me. I had done so, and felt that I was 
doing well and improving in health without any expense. 
When I asked him how much I owed him he laughed heart- 
ily, and said that, according to his books, he was owing me, 
as he had allowed me ninety dollars a month ever since I 
had been well enough to advance his interests in the Elec- 
tropoise. His answer was a great surprise to me, and I 
told him, "No, that is too much," but he would have it no 
other way, which was characteristic of the man, and he 
paid me a good round sum for my poor services, and I 
thanked him most heartily. 

The world was brighter to me, and Mr. Watson seemed 
more pleased than I. Then he offered me a stipulated sum 
per month, and wished me to keep right on doing what I 
could, but to take good care of myself, not to overdo or 
work too hard, and I accepted his proposition. I told him 
that I wished to avail myself of the experience of the par* 

342 



CLOSING EVENTS 343 

ties in the East who had had so much more experience with 
the instrument, and to visit all the different offices in the 
East then established. He said that the idea was all right, 
but he did not like to spare me ; however, he agreed to the 
proposition, the matter was settled, and I was to start the 
first of May. I went to work with much enthusiasm, and 
a determination to make a success with the Electropoise. I 
studied hard, all that my eyes would bear, and worked hard 
to succeed, and my efforts were not in vain. Before the 
first of May I had made some remarkable cures and mcreased 
the sales very much, and I almost wished that I had not 
made arrangements to go East, but it was too late to back 

out now. J 

I concluded to go to New Orleans for my first stop and 
visit the parties that were running the Electropoise there, 
get all the information I could, and then go on to Charles- 
ton, S. C, where the next office was established. I had a 
great desire to go to Charleston to see the effects of the 
earthquake and look over the ground where I had marched 
up the main street, with hundreds of others, gnawmg the 
raw beef from a bone as we marched to take the cars for 
Columbia, S. C, in 1864. 

On the sixth of May, 1891, I left for Los Angeles and 
made my friend H. W. Stoll a short visit. I laid m a few 
needed supplies, went to Beaumont, made a short visit to 
the Ludden's, then went to Colton and bought a ticket to 
New Orleans, via Kansas City, on the Santa Fe, and thence 
to Memphis, Tenn., and down the river by rail, through the 
cities of Vicksburg and Baton Rouge, to New Orleans. As 
I had never been over that section of the country I chose 

this route. . 

I left Colton on the thirteenth of May. I bought a tourist 



344 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

car ticket and laid in a plentiful supply of provisions and 
fruit to last me a week. On the train I found a number 
of congenial companions, and we had a royal time all the 
way to Kansas City, notwithstanding we were delayed by 
a wrecked bridge near Las Vegas, N. M., and had to walk 
a mile or two, losing ten hours' time. I stayed in Kansas 
City over night, and the next day took the Fort Scott train 
to Memphis, passing very near where I used to reside in 
Kansas before- I went to the war. We went through the 
Marie des Cygne swamps, where I used to hunt bees in 
1858-59. From there on the country was new to me. I 
found southwestern Missouri a fine country of rolling prai- 
rie, full of hogs and mules — black hogs, all of them. Before 
night we were in Arkansas, where the country was more 
sparsely settled. Our train had no sleeping accommodations, 
and I got but little rest. We crossed the Mississippi River 
a short time after sunrise and landed in the city of Memphis, 
Tenn. I found that our train did not leave until 2 p.m. We 
ran so near the river that I saw but little good country, 
though the land was rich. That night we got into Vicksburg 
just before dark, and till after midnight had to wait for 
another train. I was sorry I was not able to see more of 
that historical town and look over the old fortifications, 
where our boys had won their great victory over Pemberton 
on that memorable Fourth of July when we were busy chas- 
ing Lee from Gettysburg. 

We left Vicksburg before morning, and passed through 
Baton Rouge a short time after sunrise, reaching New 
Orleans at 10 or 11 a.m. Some little incidents of the trip 
were quite amusing to me, one of which I will relate. 

I had been in the habit of wearing a G. A. R. button in the 
lapel of my coat, On the train, all the way from Memphis, 



CLOSING EVENTS 345 

I noticed that when parties came on board the train, espe- 
cially women, they would glance at the button and pass on. 
Several started to sit down by me, but as soon as they got 
sight of that button they moved on. From Baton Rouge 
the cars were crowded. A well-dressed elderly man came 
in and took a seat by me, and I tried my best to engage him 
in conversation, but he would answer me only in monosyl- 
lables, each time glancing at my button. After riding half 
an hour or so he seemed to have reached his destination, and 
left the train. I took the button off, and soon a man, about 
the age of the previous one, took a seat beside me, and I had 
a very pleasant talk with him all the way to the city. I 
was satisfied that a man who wore a G. A. R. button in the 
South would not receive the same courtesy and attention 
as he would if he kept the button in his pocket. 

I visited the office of the Electropoise Company of New 
Orleans, and found a very intelligent lady in charge, from 
whom I gained a great deal of information, and saw the 
first instrument of the kind ever used on a human being. 
After learning that a cousin of mine, whom I intended vis- 
iting, lived a good many miles up the river, on the west 
side, and that I could hardly get up there and back in a 
week, I concluded to continue my journey without going 
to see her. 

An account of the trip from New Orleans to Washington, 
D. C, which I sent to the Alameda Argus will be better here 
than to rely upon my memory: 

Washington, D. C, May 31, 1891. 
I think, Mr. Argus, that my last letter closed with my 
arrival at New Orleans, a city that I had not visited before. 
The business portion of the Qity >§ very poorly paved, and 



346 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

very dirty, with narrow streets. It seemed to me to be 
rather sleepy and dull, though there was considerable busi- 
ness going on. It does not seem to be growing or improving 
very much, having no cable or electric roads — nothing but 
horsecar lines. Canal Street is the business street of the 
town. The post office and custom house are large and com- 
modious, built of granite, after the same architectural plan 
as the old public buildings in Washington. During my 
wanderings about the town I saw a monument to Andrew 
Jackson and one to Henry Clay, and one, the largest of all, 
to R. E. Lee. 

While riding by the Lee monument I asked a fellow pas- 
senger if I had been rightly informed that it was contem- 
plated by the people of New Orleans to erect a monument 
to Benjamin Butler. He answered : "Naw ! Butler be 
damned !" To fill out the quartette they certainly should 
erect one in memory of Ben. 

Not being particularly delighted with the city I made a 
short stay, and .took the L. & N. R. R. for Charleston, via 
Mobile, Pensacola, and Savannah. My sight being dim, I 
stayed but a short time in either place, therefore I will pass 
them by without remark, though both were important points 
from a war-time standpoint. I arrived in Charleston about 
noon on the twenty-second day of May, and registered at 
the Charleston House. 

This was my third appearance in the city. On a former 
visit, twenty-six years ago last December, I put up at the 
Hotel de Jail, as the guest of the Southern Confederacy. A 
few months previous I put up at the workhouse, since de- 
stroyed by the great earthquake of 1886. On my first ap- 
'pearance I was a part and parcel of a delegation of five 
hundred persons who were compelled to accept an invita- 



CLOSING EVENTS 347 

tion to be shot at every five minutes, night and day, for two 
months, by Uncle Samuel's batteries located on Morris 
Island, five miles away. At that time, August, 1864, grass 
was growing in the middle of the streets, between the cobble- 
stones, yellow fever tainted the air, and everything seemed 
on the down grade, except the fat, sleek grayback. All of 
the inhabitants of the lower part of the city had departed, 
and a more lonesome, dilapidated wilderness of buildings and 
ruins was seldom, if ever, presented to the eyes of man. Not 
many hours had passed after my arrival before I had wended 
my way to the scenes and location of my former abode. 
The workhouse, the jail, and marine hospital are all on the 
north and west side of a single square. As remarked above, 
the workhouse was gone, but the jail and the marine hos- 
pital were there, but unoccupied. Standing in the street 
and gazing upon the old buildings, my mind wandered back 
to the scenes of over a quarter of a century ago, while tears 
started, which I could not repress, as memory carried me 
back among those brave and noble men who so gallantly 
laid down their lives to uphold the flag of the Union and 
scorned the idea of deserting it, though tempted in every 
conceivable way by our captors. The soft breezes seemed 
to moan through the old, deserted buildings, singing sad 
requiems to the dead past. Almost chained to the spot, 
living over again the never-to-be-forgotten scenes known 
only to those who passed through them, my sad reverie 
was broken by a small darkey crying out 'Tee cream !" and 
pushing a small cart on which was an ice cream freezer, 
with a small flag stuck in the head of it bearing the Stars 
and Stripes. That emblem at that especial moment never 
looked better to me but once before, and that was on reach- 
ing our lines after I escaped from the rebel prison. To see 



348 ONE OF. THE PEOPLE 

it here in this cradle of the RebelHon speaks louder than 
words that my comrades died not in vain. In a sad and 
thoughtful mood I left the scene of my former misery, per- 
haps forever. 

The next morning I was up bright and early, and with 
a companion, who had a good glass, took a stroll down to 
the famous Battery, and on our way saw the Stars and 
Stripes floating gracefully over the custom house. 

Arriving at the Battery, the most popular promenade of 
all classes of Charleston people, we leveled our glass across 
the bay, which brought to view Fort Moultrie, the ruins of 
Fort Sumpter, Morris Island, James Island, Folly Island, 
all historical points of interest, where lie the remains of many 
a brave comrade who died that the Union might live. We 
left the Battery and turned up King street, the same that I 
once marched up gnawing a piece of raw beef off a bone, 
and thought it was the sweetest morsel I had ever tasted. 
There were five hundred of us, and we were all going 
through the same tactics, paying but slight attention to any- 
thing else except getting on the outside of raw beef. In 
passing a station between Savannah and Charleston, marked 
Ridgeville, I at once recognized the place where I passed 
through a brigade or division of rebel soldiers when escapr 
ing, though at that time it was called Grahamsville Station. 
This shows how indelibly those scenes were impressed upon 
my memory. Between Charleston and Florence I passed 
another familiar place, near the Pocolalego River, where 
our train ran the gauntlet at its utmost speed for over a 
mile to escape the shells of the United States gunboats. A 
shell struck in the center of the track, not more than twenty- 
five feet from the rear car of our train. Several bullets 
struck the engine, but withpilt doing any damage. 



CLOSING EVENTS 349 

Charleston seems to be a kind of dead-and-alive place, but 
was much cleaner than New Orleans, and has nearly recov- 
ered from the terrible earthquake of 1886. There were 
nearly one hundred killed and wounded at that time. Sixty- 
three, we were informed, were killed instantly, and many 
died from their wounds. I was also told that out of over 
fourteen thousand chimneys examined by the insurance men, 
only a hundred were found to be sound. Many buildmgs, 
mostly brick, were completely shaken down. 

We passed Florence and Wilmington, N. C, during the 
night, and by davlight we went over the battle fields near 
Petersburg and Richmond, and so on to Alexandria and 
Washington. 

I had telegraphed to M. M. Whitney when I would arrive 
in Washington, and he met me at the train, and had every- 
thing arranged for my comfort. I arrived May 24, 1891, and 
the city looked its best at the time, with plenty of flowers 
and shrubberv. The city had improved very much since I 
saw it last, in 1873. Many globe-trotters declare it to be 
next to, if not equal to, Paris in point of beauty. It certamly 
is the finest city I ever saw, taking everything into consid- 
eration. I met a good many of the old boys of my regi- 
ment and a good many of other regiments, with whom I 
was acquainted, and had a royal time with them. My main 
business was to visit the Electropoise offices and gam all 
the information I could about using the instruments, the 
eft'ects of oxygen, etc. 

I found a good operator at New Orleans, from whom i 
learned a good many points. At Charleston I found a Miss 
Howard in charge of the office, and although I got some 
information from her, she was not so well posted as Miss 



350 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

Kimball. John N. Webb, the president of the company, had 
his headquarters in Washington, and I spent a good deal 
of my time in his office, gaining some valuable information 
from him. He was with Sanche, the inventor, for nearly 
two years, and at that time was doubtless the best informed 
man regarding the action of the poise in the United States. 
I spent considerable time in looking over the Anatomical 
Museum, the National Museum, the Piscicultural Depart- 
ment, and ponds, the Agricultural Department, and several 
other attractions that had been added to the sights of Wash- 
ington since I was there before, including the Washington 
Monument. 

On the 1 2th of June 1 went to Baltimore to see some of 
my old friends. The time of the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad 
had been reduced to forty-five minutes between the two cit- 
ies, the distance being forty miles. That was the fastest, 
smoothest ride I ever had on a passenger train up to that 
time, but have ridden faster since then. 

When I arrived at Baltimore I found John Wagner and 
his brother still running the Green House Restaurant. I 
visited my old employee, John Buckley, and John Murray, 
who had become wealthy. My old friend, Mr. V. J. Brown, 
from whom I used to purchase large quantities of sugar, 
also gave me a warm welcome, and insisted that I should 
come and dine with him at his house. Murray took a great 
deal of pains to entertain me, and with his horse and buggy 
took me all over the city, and spent a whole day in showing 
me how much the city had improved since I left. The city 
had grown to over half a million inhabitants. I also met a 
good many other old friends, and enjoyed my visit very 
much. Instead of a couple of days' visit, as I had intended, 
I remained five days before going back to Washington. On 



CLOSING EVENTS 3St 

my return to the latter place I visited my old friend, A. O. 
Bliss, and family, at his suburban residence a few miles 
north of the city. Comrade Bliss had made a fortune since 
the war, and seemed to know how to enjoy it. I remained in 
Washington until June 28th, when I went to Philadelphia, 
Pa., for the express purpose of seeing my old comrades of 
the Tenth Cavalry, and Noble D. Preston in particular, and 
spent a week with him and his wife and daughter. I also 
saw the old comrade who escaped from prison with me, who 
belonged to the One Hundred and Forty-second Pennsyl- 
vania Regiment. I celebrated the Fourth of July with Pres- 
ton and his family, and heard the old Liberty Bell rung at 
Independence Hall. We visited Fairmount Park and many 
other places of interest to me. From Philadelphia we went 
to New York, and met Captain George Vanderbilt, Lieut. 
H. E. Hayes, and others, with whom I had a splendid visit, 
as well as with friends in the surrounding towns. I also 
went to Oakland to my old home, "The Crystal Spring Fish 
Farm," and found many of my old neighbors, with whom 
I enjoyed myself a day or two and then returned to New 
York. 

The greatest change to me in the appearance of New York 
was that so many foreigners crowded the streets, especially 
Portuguese and Italians. One day, while walking along 
Broadway with a friend, he said to me: "Captain, what 
is the greatest change you see in New York since you left ?" 
•'Hold on a minute," said I. "Stand right here on this corner 
for a moment with me, and I will show you. Now watch 
the crowd, and see how many Americans pass in two min- 
utes." We did so. "How many?" said I. "Oh, about a 
quarter of them," said he. "Well," said I, "that is the great- 
est change. Foreigners are thicker than bees, compared 



352 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

to what they were when I left." "Well, I think you are 
right, come to think of it, but I had never given it a thought 
before." "Of course not," said I, "being here all the while, 
you did not notice it, but I do ; and unless this immigration 
is checked, how long will it be before an American will be 
a rarity on the streets ?" All the cities on the Atlantic coast 
were the same, except Washington. 

After several days in New York I took the D. L. & W. 
R. R. for Cortland, N. Y., and arrived there July 2ist, at 
about 4 P.M. When I stepped off the cars I was most cor- 
dially greeted by Comrade Mark Brownell and my old school- 
mate Henry T. Newell, each declaring that I must go to his 
house first; but as I had already made arrangements with 
Newell by letter, I went with him, and made my home with 
him while there, being charmingly entertained. Cortland 
seemed more like home to me than any other place, and 
being pretty well worn out, I determined to rest and recu- 
perate ; but, alas ! there was no rest. I found that almost 
everybody from the surrounding country had moved into 
Cortland to live, and it was easy to find almost anyone I 
wished to see. 

My old comrade Brownell got up a unique reception for 
me a few days after my arrival. He made me promise that 
I would be at his house on a certain day and hour without 
fail. When the time came I went as requested, and, to my 
surprise, found every old soldier for ten miles around that 
had belonged to the Tenth Cavalry, awaiting my arrival. 
It was a joyous meeting, and many a tear glistened in the 
eyes of the old boys with whom I had fought in a score of 
battles. None but the old soldier can fully realize one's 
feelings at such a time and on such an occasion, after years 
of separation. Most of them I had not seen since the war, 



CLOSING EVENTS 353 

and none of them had I met for fifteen years. We had a 
royal time, and our pleasure was enhanced by Mrs. Brow- 
nell and her daughter and the wives of many of the old boys. 
That meeting was worth the trip across the continent to 
enjoy. I visited many of them at their homes during my 
stay in Cortland, and was more than welcome. God bless 
them all ! To meet and greet them was one of the bright, 
sunny spots along my life's pathway. 

The National Encampment of the G. A. R. met in August, 
and Comrade Brownell and I, with Captain Pierce, of the 
Seventy-sixth or One Hundred and Fifty-seventh Regiment 
of Infantry, went to Detroit, Mich., to attend it. On our way 
we stayed over Sunday at Buffalo and enjoyed the hospi- 
tality of Comrade Bull at his beautiful home in the city. We 
met several of our boys that reside in that city. From thence 
we went to Detroit with one of Buffalo's G. A. R. posts in 
a special train, and during the encampment week met a 
great many of our regiment and had an impromptu reunion 
for several hours, fighting our battles over again. Scarcely 
any of the boys had I ever met since the war. To say that 
we enjoyed it is putting it very mild. Comrade Bliss, who 
was later governor of the State of Michigan, was with us, 
also his brother, Doctor Bliss, the surgeon of our regiment ; 
also Judge Reynolds, of Michigan, and many others of the 
old Tenth. 

On my return I was accompanied by Fred Mather, an old 
comrade who was in prison with me, and was also a brother 
member of the Fish Culturists' Association. I left Fred 
at Binghamton, N. Y., and went back to Cortland. From 
there I went to Taylor, Cincinnatus, and the surrounding 
towns, where I had many a good visit with old friends and 
neighbors of long ago. My health kept very good and I 



354 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

enjoyed myself immensely. During my visits I found some 
of my friends afflicted with some acute disease. I applied 
the Electropoise, which almost invariably helped them. 

At Willet I visited with my old friend W. Bourne, who 
belonged to the Seventy-sixth Regiment, and with him went 
to a reunion of his regiment at Truxton, N. Y., which I 
enjoyed, except my eyes troubled me very much. I went 
back to Cortland and took the cars for Norwich, N. Y., to 
see my wife's folks, and from thence to Oxford, N. Y., to 
see my dear old uncle Milo Porter and his family. He was 
over eighty years old, but was quite vigorous for a man 
of his age. I also met a number of the boys of my regiment 
there, who belonged to Company K, consequently had a good 
time. I had promised Captain Getman, of Company I, to 
make him a visit, so I left Oxford for Fulton County, where 
the captain lived, and arrived at Gloversville the same day, 
meeting the captain there. It will be remembered that the 
captain escaped with me from the Southern prison, and we 
both reached Sherman's army together ; for that reason I 
was anxious to meet him again. The captain gave me a 
royal reception, and we went to his home in Mayfield, where 
I sojourned five days. His good wife did everything she 
could to make my visit enjoyable and the captain spent his 
whole time in entertaining me. We went to Saratoga and 
spent one night there. The next day we went to the Grant 
cottage on Mt. McGregor, and went over the house, where 
everything had been left exactly as it was when General 
Grant died. From the top of the hotel at Mt. McGregor you 
can look into three States, Vermont, Massachusetts, and New 
York. The little engine that took us up the mountains, the 
railroad it ran on, the scenery, and the cottage and its sur- 
roundings were all very interesting to me, especially the cot- 



CLOSING EVENTS 35S 

tage, with its fixtures, where the old hero of Appomattox 
spent his last hours. 

We returned to Mayfield, and the next day the captain 
took me off on a long ride through the country. We called 
on an old man over one hundred years old who still retained 
all his faculties. The captain had known him for years. 
He introduced me, and we had several minutes' conversation 
with him. His sight and hearing were good, and he told 
me he enjoyed very good health. He seemed to be not over 
seventy years old. I shook hands with him when we left 
and wished him a long life and a happy one. He seemed to 
appreciate the joke, and, with a laugh, asked us to call again. 
Soon after, we called on his son, a youth of some seventy 
summers, who was not nearly as well preserved as his father, 
and who complained bitterly of rheumatism. He was the 
oldest man of the two according to appearances. 

The next day we visited Johnstown and Gloversville, and 
called upon some of the old boys of Company I, Tenth 
Cavalry. The day after, I left for New York, via Albany, 
concluding to take the night boat. 

The boat did not leave for two or three hours, and I 
hardly knew what to do with myself. Taking a seat in the 
office of the steamboat company, I happened to see a direc- 
tory lying on the counter. I picked it up and looked up 
the address of my step-sister's daughter. I had no idea of 
finding it, but I did, and at once inquired the way to her 
house, how far it was, and how to reach it. I was informed 
that it was not far and that the street car that passed the 
office would take me within a block of her number. I at 
once took the car, and in ten minutes was pulling the bell 
at her house. Someone came bounding down the stairs and 
opened the door, and Ella stood before me. Although I 



35^ ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

had not seen her for twenty-five years, I knew it was hef, 
and would have known her anywhere. Our greeting was 
very cordial, and we were both happy to meet again. I 
asked for her mother, but she was in New York, or at her 
son's house in New Durham, N. J. I visited with Ella up 
to the time I had to leave for the boat, and it seemed more 
like home than any place I had been since I came East. I 
promised to come back, via Albany, and make her another 
visit before I went back to Cortland, after my visit to New 
York. 

While in New York I visited Lieut. H. E. Hayes and fam- 
ily in Brooklyn, also Captain George Vanderbilt, both of 
my regiment. I also went over to see Fred Holland, and 
his mother, my step-sister, whom I had not seen for nearly 
twenty-five years. I found her at her son's house. She did 
not know me at first, but soon recognized my voice, and 
I had a delightful visit with her. Fred and his wife were 
both away from home, but returned at night. I spent a very 
enjoyable day. 

The next day I went to New York, and the morning after 
took the day boat for Albany to make Ella my promised 
visit. She stayed at home a couple of days in order to enter- 
tain me, before she went to New York for her mother, who 
was living with her. Ella took me all over the old city. We 
visited the Capitol Building, and I saw there our old regi- 
mental flag in the archives of the State. What memories 
that old flag, under whose folds I saw so many hard-fought 
battles, brought back! I .could not help but drop a tear 
for the noble boys who gave up their lives while fighting 
in its defence. After a couple of days with Ella she took a 
train for New York, and I went to Cortland to finish my visit 
there and attend a reunion of our regiment at Elmira, 



CLOSING EVENTS 357 

It was now October, and the dull, cloudy days iDegan fo 
make me wish for California's bright sunshine ; besides, I 
was annoyed by a succession of boils on my neck, head, and 
hands, until I had nine in full operation all at the same time, 
which were very painful, and made me feel almost sick. I 
was cared for by Mrs. Brownell with a great deal of skill 
and patience, and I managed to worry along until the re- 
union, where, notwithstanding my misery, I enjoyed myself 
very much, returning to the town of Cortland somewhat 
improved. Because of this annoyance I had to cut my visits 
to many of my friends rather short, and left for Albany, 
where I could feel at home with Ella and her mother, until 
my recovery, when I intended to return to my old home in 
San Francisco. 

During my stay at Albany I took pains to inquire into the 
way Ella and her mother were managing to keep the wolf 
from the door, and found that Ella was working herself 
almost to death to keep going, pay rent, furnish coal, wood, 
etc., with nothing to look forward to, and I felt that I would 
like to do something for her and her mother to help them 
along. Ella was always my favorite when a child, and her 
mother was like a sister to me; therefore, I concluded that 
if Ella was willing I would marry her and take them both 
to California with me. So one morning, while we were at 
breakfast, I broached the subject to both, giving them a few 
days to decide. They did not seem very much surprised, 
although the mother had known nothing of my intentions 
before that; but T had talked the matter over very seriously 
with Ella before, and she had already promised to marry 
me. Her mother finally told me she could hardly think of 
going to California and leave all her children, although Ella 
was her favorite daughter and she would rather liv^ with 



•35B ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

her than any other member of her family. She had three 
sons and two daughters, all married but Ella. It was finally 
decided that Ella could not leave until the spring of 1892, 
when her mother would go to live with her other daughter, 
who was anxious that she should do so. So all matters were 
settled, and I was to come or send for Ella the next spring. 

Having fully recovered my health, I soon left for the 
Pacific Coast, via Chicago, thence to St. Paul, over the Cana- 
dian Pacific to Puget Sound, then direct by rail to San 
Francisco. 

From Chicago I went to Marengo, 111., to visit my Aunt 
Harriet Howe. She lived with her son, E. E. Howe, and 
his family. He was a widower. My aunt was getting very 
old, being nearly ninety years of age, but was quite smart, 
retaining all her faculties to a remarkable degree. My visit 
gave me much pleasure, as I had not seen my aunt since 
the war. When I was a small boy she was like a mother to 
me. Her son was a noble man, and his eldest daughter was 
a beautiful and charming girl of twenty years of age. Mr. 
Howe told me that he was engaged to a young woman who 
was then living in Oregon, and he would like very much 
to have her return with me the next spring when I came 
East after Ella. I told him to fix up the matter with her, 
and, if agreeable, I would come back by the way of Port- 
land, where she could meet me, and I would see her safely 
through to her destination. 

I went back to Chicago, from there to St. Paul, where I 
had to w^ait for two days for my train, with the thermome- 
ter at zero. When we reached Winnipeg it was still at zero, 
and the morning we arrived at Medicine Hat, on the Sas- 
catchewan River, it was twenty-seven degrees below; but 
the morning we reached the Rocky Mountains the weather 



CLOSING EVENTS 359 

had moderated, and at noon it began to snow. At the first 
station after we reached the Rockies I looked north, and saw 
w^hat is called Cathedral Rock. The treeless plain seemed to 
run right up level to the foot of the mountains, which rose 
almost perpendicularly. This puzzled me, as I had never 
seen the foot of a mountain like that. I determined to visit 
it and learn why it was so. The conductor informed me 
that I would have time to go out and back if I would 
be quick about it. As no one of my fellow passengers seemed 
interested in the matter, I went alone. On reaching the 
spot, I found the whole mountain was one vast flint rock, 
without a particle of debris at its foot, forming almost a 
right angle with the plain. The elements seemed to have 
had no effect on the mountain whatever. To me it was a 
very peculiar formation, and I do not remember having read 
of anything like it before. The run from the plain on the 
east of the Rockies to the banks of the Columbia was made 
in about twelve hours. About three hours of the time it 
was snowing, which shut out bits of scenery that I was told 
were very fine. We passed a long, narrow swamp, some of 
the water of which, I was informed, ran eastwardly into the 
Atlantic, and some westwardly into the Pacific. In going 
down the west side we passed a glacier three hundred feet 
thick and five hundred feet above the road. Soon after, we 
came to the Glacier House, which is near an immense glacier 
five hundred feet thick at its lower end and is miles long and 
wide. This is quite a popular resort, and several of our pas- 
sengers stopped over one train to visit the glacier. 

From here to the Columbia River we had but little chance 
to admire the scenery, as it snowed all the way. Before 
crossing the Columbia we stopped for lunch. I regretted 



36o ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

that we must pass through the Selkirk Mountains, as well 
as the second crossing of the Columbia, in the night, but 
was informed that we would not reach the Frazer River 
before three or four o'clock next morning, and would pass 
most of the way down the river by daylight. It would be 
moonlight, however, and, if awake, 1 could enjoy some re- 
markable scenery by moonlight. I turned in early, making 
up my mind to wake up at 2 a.m. and see all I could. I was 
wide awake at the right time just as we struck the Frazer 
River, and my berth being on the right side for observation, 
I did not have to get up. The moon shone very brightly in 
that clear atmosphere, it was almost as light as day, and I 
had a splendid view from my window. As soon as it was 
daylight I was up, and rode on the platform all the way 
through the Frazer River Canyon. Some of the time we 
were five hundred feet or more above the river, on a shelf 
cut in the perpendicular side of the mountain. It was cer- 
tainly the most entrancing and exciting ride I ever had on 
a railroad, the scenery being the wildest and the most unique 
I had ever beheld. Words cannot do justice to it ; it must 
be seen to be appreciated. To build a railroad in the side 
of a perpendicular mountain, above a chasm five hundred 
feet deep, filled with a roaring, foaming, whirling, splashing 
body of water of immense volume, that fairly shakes the 
solid rock, is what I call the climax of engineering skill. I 
shall never forget that ride down the Frazer River, and 
would like very much to go over it again. I remember in 
the fifties talking to a man who had returned from the 
Frazer River country during the gold excitement, who told 
me about his experience in that place. "Why," he said, 
"you can't go from one bar to another on foot, or in a boat, 
or any other way, except by balloon f and I now think, since 



CLOSING EVENTS 361 

I have seen it, he must have been right, for I never saw such 
a dangerous stream to navigate, either up or down. 

At noon that day we reached the town of Whatcom, on 
Puget Sound, and went on board the steamer, where we 
learned that she would reach Tacoma the next morning, 
after making the circuit of the Sound, first to Seattle, and 
from there to Tacoma, to connect with the train for Port- 
land, Oregon. At night I went to my state-room for a good 
sleep, as I had been all over the Sound in previous years 
and cared nothing for the sights to be seen. Our boat lay 
at the wharf the next morning when I awakened, to take 
the train for Portland. Nothing of moment occurred on 
the way to Portland, at which place I spent more than half 
the day, leaving at ten p.m. for San Francisco. As I had 
been over the road before, the scenery did not interest me 
very much until we reached the Siskiyou Mountains, which 
are always interesting, no matter how many times you have 
seen them. Old Shasta Butte I never tire of, for I think it 
one of the grandest mountains on the Pacific Coast. When 
we got a glimpse of it, it seemed to me like looking upon 
an old comrade. 

Without mishap we reached the bay of San Francisco 
on the morning of November 22, 1891, having been gone 
six months and sixteen days. It had been one of the most 
enjoyable trips of my life, and I returned in better health 
than I had enjoyed for thirty years, notwithstanding I was 
nearly sixty years of age. My main object in visiting the 
East had been to learn more about the use of the Electro- 
poise and the effects of oxygen on the human system, as 
I had determined to make it a business to help others as I 
had been helped, having been, as it were, snatched from the 
^rave by its use. I visited all the offices established at that 



Z(i2 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

time in the Eastern States, except Nashville, Tenn., and 
one or two others in the South. When I reached Chicago 
I found Miss Howard in charge, whom I had met in Charles- 
ton, S. C, where she had charge of the office at the time 
I was there. 

On my return to San Francisco I at once commenced to 
study causes and symptoms of all diseases, using the electro- 
poise as my treatment. My success was quite remarkable, 
and I soon found that all acute diseases, no matter of what 
nature, were readily cured; but chronic diseases were not 
so easily dealt with, and it was hard work to keep the pa- 
tients from going back to medicine. When the oxygen 
began to work strongly on the disease they would get dis- 
couraged and want to try something else, but those that 
stuck to it came out all right and became enthusiastic, like 
myself. The more I used it the more convinced I became 
that oxygen was the best, the safest, and surest cure for 
disease ever discovered, and after using it for over thirteen 
years my confidence in it is unbounded. I have cured thou- 
sands, and it frequently astonishes me to see the remarkable 
effects I have produced by its use, when properly applied. 

There are many things to be taken into consideration 
when using oxygen to get the best results, as it is sensitive 
to the least interference by drugs or alcoholics, changes of 
atmosphere, bathing, or eating, condition of patient, disobe- 
dience of the laws of nature, etc., etc. It is more scientific 
than any other mode of treatment, and yet you cannot use 
the treatment without benefit, even in the most careless man- 
ner. There are so many very important facts brought out 
and demonstrated which cannot be done with anything else 
known, that it astonishes the medical fraternity, and they 
know not what to say or think. 



CLOSING EVENTS J363 

Physicians who love their patients better than the almighty 
dollar and themselves, drop medication and use the oxygen 
treatment. Many of the doctors have an Electropoise of 
their own, and use it themselves in secret and denounce it 
to their patients. Cold facts will eventually win, and the 
time will come, no doubt, when the medical fraternity will 
adopt this treatment as their own. Old Doctor Beckwith, 
of New York, is trying hard, and has been for years, to 
make medicine and oxygen work together, for the benefit 
of the medical fraternity, but oxygen and poisons will not 
harmonize, and never will. 

I worked hard through the winter of 1891-92, studying 
nights, and attending patients during the day, and perhaps 
used my eyes too much, but was in splendid health other- 
wise. That was the first winter of la grippe visitation on 
this coast, and many died. I had eleven cases that I treated, 
and brought them all out in fine shape, with no after effects. 
In fact, I never failed to cure the grip in a single instance 
for thirteen years. Can any medical physician say the same 
who has had any practice at all ? I think not. 

I got ready to go East after Ella, and set the time to 
start for the second of April, 1892. I had corresponded 
with Miss Bennet, who was to meet me at Portland, Oregon. 
On the second of April I left San Francisco for the East, 
via Portland. I found my lady companion on hand when 
I reached the latter city, and that night took the train, via 
the Northern Pacific, for St. Paul, where she was to take 
another train for her destination in Iowa. We had a de- 
lightful trip, and both of us had laid in an extra amount of 
provisions, not knowing what each other had done, so that 
when we came to open our lunch baskets for the first meal 
we had enough for four people instead of two. I selected 



364 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

mine from a man's standpoint, and she from a woman's — ■ 
therefore we had a splendid layout. What one had not 
thought of, the other had. On our arrival at St. Paul we 
had enough to last a week longer. The people in our car 
were so agreeable and mirth-loving that the time did 
not drag at all, the trip terminating all too quickly. The 
scenery on the Northern Pacific cannot be compared with 
that of the Canadian Pacific, in my estimation, nor is it as 
good as on the Central Pacific or the Santa Fe. 

On my arrival in Chicago the weather was very cold, and 
we had more or less of snow squalls all the way to Albany, 
where I arrived on the tenth of April, 1892, and found Ella 
all right. After disposing of her household goods, and send- 
ing her mother to Truxton, N. Y., to live with her daughter 
Frances, we went down to New Durham, N. J., where her 
brother, Fred Holland, lived, and on the 24th of April, at 
the episcopal parsonage, at Union Hill, N. J., were mar- 
ried. 

On the 25th of April we left for Chicago, 111., and made 
my Aunt Harriet Howe and her son, E. E. Howe, and fam- 
ily, a visit for a week. Leaving Marengo, we went to Chi- 
cago, where we took the Santa Fe for Los Angeles, Cal., 
arriving there May 8th. We stopped over one day, then 
left for San Francisco, where we arrived on the loth of 
May, staying at the Park Hotel in Alameda until we could 
find a suitable place in San Francisco. 

I immediately went to work for Mr. Watson, with the 
Electropoise, having been gone between five and six weeks. 
My health was fine, but my eyes troubled me considerably. 
The rest and trip did not seem to improve them much. 

Times seemed dull, and it being the year of the Presiden- 
tial election, whigh always aflfects business more or less, 



CLOSING EVENTS 365 

everything seemed to be at a standstill. Through taking cold, 
my eyes became inflamed, and I had to be shut up in a dark 
room for five weeks, which was a terrible ordeal to me, 
though my general health was of the best, and I was gaining 
a pound of flesh each week. I had to hold up my studies 
for some time, for it looked very much as though I would 
become blind altogether. After consultation with Mr. Wat- 
son, I came to the conclusion that I would have to change 
my business and stop using my eyes. Therefore I quit 
work on the ist of February, 1893. 

My wife was badly afflicted with bronchitis, and the cli- 
mate of San Francisco not being favorable to her disease, 
we concluded to go to our ranch of one hundred and sixty 
acres in Southern California, and see if we could not make 
us a home there by exchanging my land for a small place 
that had improvements upon it. 

Very reluctantly I gave up my Electropoise business, but 
I took some instruments with me, and three years' experi- 
ence ; also a sub-agency from Mr. Watson to use and sell 
the same, so that I could follow it again if my eyes permitted 
me to do so. We stopped in Los Angeles for two or three 
weeks to give me a chance to look about and see what I 
could do. I went out to San Bernardino County, where 
my land was situated, also to the city of San Bernardino, as 
well as Colton, Riverside, and Redlands. 

Finally I ran across a man in Colton, by the name of 
Greenleaf, who told me that he knew of a man who would 
exchange a twenty-acre ranch that was more than half set 
out to oranges and other fruit, and I could see him the 
next day. He was introduced to me as the Rev. Mr. Rogers. 

I had had, at different times during my career, consid- 
erable dealings with church members, deacons, and ministers 



366 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

of the Gospel, who had invariably tried to swindle me ; there- 
fore, I kept these facts in my mind, and looked upon Mr. 
Rogers as one of the same class, subsequent events proving 
that I was right. However, we came to an agreement, ver- 
bally, to meet in Los Angeles, at a certain day and place, 
and close the transaction. Deeds were to be made out and 
each one was to give a clear title, without encumbrances. 
We met, and made contracts to meet and exchange deeds 
on a certain day, in Colton, Cal. In the meantime I was 
to take possession, have my deed and abstract ready, and 
Mr. Rogers was to have his ready. The matter went along 
so very smoothly that I began to have my suspicions that 
there might be something wrong. So I visited Lawyer A. B. 
Paris, of San Bernardino, who informed me that Elder 
Rogers was one of the smoothest rascals in the country. 
Therefore, I left the matter of exchanging my one hundred 
and sixty acres of land for Rogers' place with Paris, and 
he soon found there was a mortgage on Rogers' place of 
twenty-five hundred dollars. I dropped a note to Mr. Rogers 
to meet me on the day agreed upon at Colonel Paris' office 
in San Bernardino. Rogers met me there, and when the 
colonel asked him about the mortgage, he said: "Oh, that 
is all right ; I will pay that off in a few days, already having 
made arrangements for it." *'But," says the colonel, "we 
cannot give you any deed until that mortgage is paid up 
and cancelled." "Oh well," said Rogers, "Pll give you 
my deed, and you can leave yours with the Colton National 
Bank, not to be delivered until I present the mortgage, can- 
celled from the court." He also said it would be all straight- 
ened out in a couple of weeks. 

On March 28th my wife and I moved on to the twenty- 
acre ranch, and we found ourselves settled in a few days, 



CLOSING EVENTS 367 

with a feeling that we had a home, and I commenced im- 
proving the place. Rogers had not paid off the mortgage, 
but made most glittering promises to do so. Time went 
on, a year had passed, and the mortgage remained unpaid. 
The man who held the mortgage threatened to foreclose, 
but Rogers still failed to pay even the interest. I had my 
one hundred and sixty acres, but had so many improvements 
on the place I had bargained for that I did not propose to 
leave it without some remuneration for doing so. I came 
to the conclusion that Rogers had given up all intention 
of paying off the mortgage, and would let the mortgagor 
take the place, so I commenced to negotiate with J. N. 
Roads for its purchase, or the exchange of my one hundred 
and sixty acres for it. Not until May, 1896, did Roads 
foreclose the mortgage, and then it had to be sold at auction 
six months after, or in November, 1896. Roads bid it in, 
and I exchanged my one hundred and sixty acres to Roads 
and got a clear title, and finally had a home once more. On 
the first of January, 1897, we were fully settled on the third 
terrace, a mile and a half northwest from the city of Colton. 
It had been a long struggle, over three and a half years, for 
a home, but we got it. 

Now I will go back to March, 1893, when we first occu- 
pied our home. Before we left San Francisco I got a letter 
from my brother, Wm. E. Porter, that his health was very 
poor, and he thought that he would like to come to Cali- 
fornia to see if I could cure him with the Electropolse. If 
he could not sell his place in Smithville, N. Y., he would 
rent it, and come out. I wrote him that I was going to 
Southern California, and as soon as I could get me a home 
I would let him know, when he could come and live with me. 
All tUe family he had was one daughter, eleven years old. 



36^ ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

As soon as 1 got settled on the place I wrote him to come. 
He reached Colton in June, 1893. He was hardly able to 
walk from the house to the barn, a distance of one hundred 
and twenty-five feet, but I soon got him improving slowly. 
He had kidney trouble, from a strain thirty years before, 
and had been an invalid most of the time. For about five 
months he improved slowly, then he began to improve faster, 
and in a few months more was better than he had been 
for years. He was at my home for nine or ten months, when 
he went back to his farm in the town of Smithville, New 
York. 

In the fall of 1893 I went East to bring my wife's mother, 
Mrs. Holland, back to California with me. I also wished 
to attend the reunion of my old regiment at Syracuse, N. Y. 
I left Colton October 12th, reaching Syracuse October 17th, 
in time for the reunion. After the meeting was over I went 
to Unadilla, to my wife's brother, after her mother, whom 
I found well, and she accompanied me to Cortland, N. Y., 
to see her daughter and son, who lived at Truxton and 
McGraw, respectively. I had a pretty stormy time to get 
their consent for their mother to go with me, but finally 
accomplished my purpose. We took the train for Chicago, 
and then to Marengo, 111., to see my aunt and cousin there. 
On account of delay in receiving funds, we did not leave 
there before the middle of November. Mrs. Holland en- 
joyed the trip very much. Between Chicago and Kansas 
City I was robbed of my return ticket, and had to buy one 
from there to Colton. In all my travels I had never been 
robbed of anything before. The ticket was taken while 
I was asleep in my berth. 

We travelled via the Santa Fe Railroad. My wife met 
us at San Bernardino, and both of the ladies were delighted 



CLOSING EVENTS 3^9 

to be together once more. This was our first winter in 
Southern California. It was a cool, but delightful one, 
and we all enjoyed it very much. During the year 1894, 
after my brother left, I was engaged in taking care of the 
place and treating a good many patients with the electro- 
poise. From the cures I made there was a gradual increase 
of patients, which fully paid all expenses. Nothing of mo- 
ment occurred during the year 1894. We all enjoyed good 
health, and Dollie (my wife) and her mother were like two 
children, as happy as could be, and I was content. My 
sight was slowly getting worse, and I could do nothing to 
improve it. In the winter of 1894-95 we had a man living 
with us, by the name of Cole, for a while, whom I was treat- 
ing, and some other parties whose names I have forgotten. 
In the meantime my patients were increasing, and I had to 
spend more time studying. In looking after the property, 
attending to patients, and so forth, I was kept very busy, 
so I got a man, by the name of E. D. Walker, to come and 
live with us and take care of the place. 

The summer of 1895 passed off all right, but one thing 
troubled me, and that was my failing eyesight. My wife 
and I, with her mother, were as happy as could be expected. 
I had come to the conclusion that Rogers would never lift 
the mortgage, and Roads had come to the same conclusion, 
and promised me to foreclose the mortgage, which he did 
in May, 1896, agreeing to pay me fifteen dollars per month 
for taking care of it. I hired Walker to work for me at 
twenty dollars per month for the year, I to board him. We 
had to wait six months before the sale of the place, after 
the foreclosure, and that carried us through the summer 
of 1896. In the meantime I tried to negotiate for the place 
on the same basis that Rogers and I were to trade, but it 



370 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

was a hard job. However, as before stated, the trade was 
made, and we had a home. I employed Walker, and com- 
menced to improve the place. McKinley had been elected 
President of the United States, I had a home, and we were 
all happy and contented. 

My success with the Electropoise was marvellous, patients 
were increasing, and everything looked promising up to the 
day of the inauguration of McKinley, on the fourth day of 
March, 1897. That night my wife's mother went to bed all 
right at eight p.m. At half-past ten p.m. she woke us up, 
saying she was choking to death. We both got up at once, 
and found her in a critical condition. She was in great pain 
about the heart. I eased that with the Electropoise, but 
she grew weak. My wife brought some hot water, but it 
was of no avail ; her pulse grew weaker and weaker. I sent 
Walker at once for a doctor at Colton, telling him to hurry, 
for I thought she would be dead before he could get back. 
My wife took her in her arms, and in forty minutes from 
the time she called us she breathed her last. A blood vessel 
near the heart had burst. 

She was one of the best women I ever knew, of the 
sweetest disposition, and always cheerful, kind, and obliging. 
To have known her was to have loved her. We laid her 
to rest in a bed of flowers in the City Cemetery of San Ber- 
nardino. My wife almost idolized her mother, and the loss 
of her almost killed her daughter. 

During the year 1897 I made many improvements on my 
place, laying pipes, setting out trees, and getting the place 
in shape. It was a dry year and we could not get water 
enough to keep the place up to a proper standard; but we 
did the best we could. 

On January i, 1898, there was a better feeling as to the 



CLOSING EVENTS 37i 

future, and times began to improve in some parts of the 
country, though we did not notice much difference here. 
Walker had my place to work again this year, but the rain- 
fall had been scanty, the prospects for water were very poor, 
and there was not much show for pushing the orange grove 
to any extent, but we had some oranges to sell for the first 
time since I owned the ranch. 

The Electropoise business increased considerably, and 
money was a little more plentiful with me than it had been 
before. I made some very remarkable cures during the 
year which astonished the doctors considerably. My sight 
did not improve much, in fact it was a little worse, but I had 
studied considerably, and perhaps used my eyes too much; 
besides, the heat of summer injured them, and it looked 
very much as though I might lose my sight altogether ; but 
I kept up in good spirits, and made the best of it, though it 
was hard to keep from my books. Besides the patients we 
had a good deal of other company, my wife and I always 
trying to make it pleasant for everybody who came to see 
us. The year passed without anything particular occurring. 
We were as happy as could be under the circumstances, and 
drifted along down the stream of life without scarcely a 
ripple to mar our happiness. 

New Year's Day came and went. The winter was a very 
dry one and we had to irrigate all winter. In January two 
young ladies came to reside with us, natives of Canada. Their 
names were Bertha Little and Rose Little. The former 
was sent here for her health, and her sister came with her 
to take care of her. Her disease was laryngitis. I treated 
her, with good success, until the 25th of July, when they 
departed for their home. They were both charming young 
ladies and we missed them when they had gone. 



372 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

My wife was not in good health, but I kept her up with 
oxygen, so that she was able to do her work most of the 
time. In the fall of 1899 I got a letter from Mark Brownell 
saying that he thought he and his wife, Minnie, would likely 
make us a visit, if agreeable to us. Nothing could suit us 
better, I wrote him, for my latch string hung on the out- 
side to all old comrades, especially to those of my own 
regiment. Brownell was a member of Company A of the 
Tenth Cavalry, and when I was East, in 1891, his wife and 
himself treated me very kindly at their home in Cortland, 
at a time when I was sick and in a miserable condition with 
a dozen boils, more or less. 

In December I got a letter that they were on the way, 
and would telegraph me what day they would arrive in 
Colton, specifying what train they would be on, etc. On 
the morning of the i8th of December they arrived, and 
were delighted with everything, as we were with them. The 
next day after their arrival a very heavy norther set in, 
which lasted for five days, but they did not seem to mind 
it much, although it kept us all indoors. We had a most 
enjo3'ab]e time, notwithstanding the disagreeable weather. 
We had concluded to have a small reunion of what few 
soldiers we could gather together of our regiment for a 
Christmas dinner. We sent an invitation to all whom we 
knew were in this part of the country. David Brinkley and 
wife, of Los Angeles, responded, and Corporal Ellen, of the 
Soldiers' Home at Santa Monica, who belonged to Company 
M of our regiment; Uncle Jesse Higgs, of a New York 
regiment of infantry, was also with us. We all fully en- 
joyed the small but happy reunion to the full extent of our 
ability. All the party had arrived the day before, and Christ- 
mas Eve was spent very happily. Mrs. Brownell made the 



CLOSING EVENTS 373 

remark that she had experienced 'most everything that Cali- 
fornia could afiford, except an earthquake, and she would 
like to see what it was like. She was fully gratified, for 
before daylight on Christmas morning we had the worst 
shock I had ever experienced in this country. San Jacinto 
and Hemet had buildings shaken down, and four 
Indians were killed. Brinkley was badly affected by the 
shock for several hours. Mrs. Brownell was perfectly sat- 
isfied with the demonstration, and did not care to have any 
more. 

Brownell and his wife went to Pasadena, to the rose tour- 
nament, on New Year's Day, 1900, besides visiting many 
other parts of Southern California, but kept their headquar- 
ters at our house, returning now and then to rest and re- 
cuperate. They took their final departure on March 8, 1900, 
and visited the northern part of the State on their tour of 
California, going as far north as Puget Sound, thence east, 
via the Northern Pacific. 

Johnny Cowles and wife made us a visit from Chicago, 
and stayed with us a week while Brownell was here. Johnny 
was an old member of our regiment in the Civil War. My 
wife was in miserable health most of the latter part of the 
winter, and I was very busy with my patients, who had in- 
creased very rapidly, and I was obliged to stick pretty closely 
to my studies and observations in order to learn the effects 
of oxygen on the human system. One great drawback is 
that there are no books that teach the effects of oxygen; 
in fact, the M. D.'s do not seem to know anything about it. 
Their colleges teach nothing of the kind. The best medical 
experts of the land will fill up a patient with drugs and poi- 
sons and then pour down liquid oxygen, which assists nature 
to throw off the poisons administered, and puts the patient in 



374 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

the greatest misery imaginable during the reaction, as in 
the case of President McKinley, who begged of them not 
to give him any more oxygen, because it caused him to 
suffer so intensely. No medicine should be given with 
oxygen. Either depend upon medicine alone or upon oxygen 
alone. They are antagonistic to a remarkable degree and 
only make the malady worse. 

The year 1900 proved a very successful one for me in 
treating patients for all kinds of diseases, and my reputa- 
tion advanced accordingly; but there was one drawback to 
my success, and that was my poor eyesight. My sight was 
gradually getting poorer and poorer as time advanced, so 
much so that I had to curtail my reading and writing during 
the heat of the day and by lamp-light, which was very an- 
noying to me, as my whole mind, heart, and soul were in 
the work of investigating the action of oxygen on the human 
system. I made many remarkable cures during the year. 
I worked hard, but enjoyed good health most of the time. 
My wife was in poor health most of the time, but I was 
able to hold her trouble in check, so that at the end of the 
year she was no worse. 

Slowly but surely my sight was getting worse, and my age 
being against me, I feared that there was no further help 
for it, but I did not despair, or allow it to worry me, keeping 
on with my business as best I could and taking as good care 
of myself as possible. Keeping cheerful and contented is 
the best of tonics for health and long life, and for this rea- 
son I determined to keep up good spirits and take things 
as they came. Therefore, 1901 found me about as good as 
ever. E. D. Walker had my ranch to take care of for this 
year, and David J. Dartt, a young man who had been with 
US for a year for treatment, left us, well, and went North. 



CLOSING EVENTS 375 

Miss Belle Randall, who had been with us for a year, still 

r.ii. .0 ».. o.. .»»y ... -^ -;%":*;:. 

gave her a wedding and she was married at o"^ touse 
^ Business had increased with me to a considerable extent 
:ind I had been very successful with some very severe cases 
of s ckness My wife had worked too hard during the 
1 andlhad noticed that she was failing in health but 
^though I cautioned her that she was threatened with pa- 
ralysis she would not curb the propensity of doing more 
han her vitality would allow. It worried me a great deal, 
but I could not coax her to desist, and she kept on overdo- 
ing rushing headlong on to the inevitable. Our winter was a 
vef ; dry one and we had to irrigate nearly the whole ime 
My heJth remained very good, but my sight was no better, 
and v4s slowly failing. Happy and contented otherwise we 
enjoyed life fully as well as the average run of people of 

""m^ wife and I lived alone for some time, until we got a 

voune lady by the name of Ina Lyman, to work for us, as 

Ly wife was hardly able to do our work. My Electropoise 

business was increasing and my sight slowly decreasing, 

and I had " much to do that I felt that I was overdoing^ 

Miss Lyrnan proved to be a good help and we got along very 

Sv During the very hot weather in July, ^902,m^^-^ 

and kiss Lyman got up one morning, very e-bs to d° he 

, . J 4- ;f rMif hpinre it eot too not. iney gor it 

wnshmo' and sret it out oeiore u g^i- , , , 11 ^^1. 

:ut before breakfast, but my wife was so tired she could ea 
no hing but kept on until noon overworking, and at dinner 
: *d fat nothing. In the afternoon she tried to res , and w s 
lying on a cot, in the shade of the house, when .he began to 



376 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

feel very bad and got up to go into the house. She got as far 
as the piazza, and sat down in a chair. I passed into the 
office to see v/hen I had treated her last, when I heard her 
cry out my name, as if in distress. I ran out just in time 
to save her from falling out of the chair to the floor. Her 
whole body was rigid, and she was unconscious. I laid 
her on the floor and called to Miss Lyman to bring some 
water, in the meantime applying the Electropoise to her 
ankle as soon as possible. She was still breathing, but with 
great effort. I bathed her temples, and watched results. 
She soon seemed a little easier, though still unconscious, and 
remained so for over thirty minutes. In the meantime we 
had laid her on a cot on the porch. I saw her symptoms 
were favorable ; she became partially conscious, but was un- 
able to move. We carried her into the house and put her 
to bed. It was a complete stroke of paralysis of the whole 
body, but I got the Electropoise on her so soon that it saved 
her. After she had become fully conscious a severe pain 
settled in the small of her back and she was unable to move 
herself, compelling me to handle her as you would a baby. 
I watched and attended her for twenty-four hours, applied 
the treating plate to the spot where the pain centered (in 
the small of the back) for a short time, which relieved her 
almost immediately, and in two hours she was walking about 
the house without help, although very weak. In three days 
she was quite well, but weak, and it was a year or more 
before she got back to where she was before the stroke. 
Not a drop of medicine nor of anything else was used, only 
hot compresses. It was a close call for her, and I thought 
she would surely die, and I think she would have had I not 
been on the spot at the time. Oxygen is certainly the best 
cure for all nervous diseases ever discovered, and I have 



CLOSING EVENTS 377 

brought out many a one from a stroke of hemiplegia, para- 
plegia, and locomotor ataxia, where all other methods utterly 
failed when attended by the best physicians. I may say that 
I am all the while working on the most obdurate cases, on 
which the best doctors have exhausted their powers and 
given them up as past curing, and almost without exception 
I have brought them out all right. 

The year passed very quietly and we got along without 
any other mishaps until 1903. My business increased con- 
siderably during the winter and spring. We then learned 
of the death of my wife's sister-in-law, who lived at Una- 
dilla, N. Y. She left her brother's daughter without a home 
or parents, and we wrote to her to come to us and make 
her home with us. She was an only child of my wife's broth- 
er, and had reached the age of twenty years. She accepted 
our offer, and was to come in the fall, after spending the 
summer with relatives in New York State. Her name is 
Ella E. Holland, and when she arrived at our home we found 
her a charming and lovely girl. We were proud of her, 
and delighted to have so good a companion for us both. 
We soon learned to love her as our own, and we think 
she fully reciprocates our feelings. Considering every- 
thing, we were a happy family, and all seemingly well con- 
tented. 

I bought six lots in Colton and am trying to sell my old 
ranch on the sandhill, and will move into Colton if I am 
successful. I had a letter from my cousin, Sophia E. Rob- 
erts, the first news of her for many years. She writes me 
that there is a prospect of my receiving something from the 
estate of my cousin, Hobart Kimberly, of Hamden, Conn.; 
also that I ought to have had quite a sum from Aunt Cynthia 
Bradley's estate, which had been kept back by the adminis- 



syS ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

trator, Henry Tuttle, a cousin of mine, who has proved 
to be a rascal of the first water. 

In September of this year I attended the yearly Grand 
Encampment held at San Francisco, Cal. I spent a week 
there and had a most enjoyable visit with old comrades and 
friends. I returned without mishap. 

Aside from my increasing blindness my health has re- 
mained good during the whole year ; also my wife's. Noth- 
ing of any importance occurred during the rest of the year. 

New Year's Day found me still on the old sandhill ranch, 
not having been able to dispose of it. Business seemed to 
increase, and I had all I could very well attend to, with my 
increasing blindness. The year before I had made some 
very remarkable cures and that increased my business very 
much. 

The year 1904 was a prosperous year, and I concluded to 
build me a home in Colton, whether I sold the ranch or not, 
and I made preparations accordingly. I secured four lots on 
the corner of I and Second streets, and gave the plans to 
five contractors to figure on, finally awarding the contract 
to H. F. Wegnori, of San Bernardino, to build me a house, 
and it was ready for occupation in March, 1905. As I was 
very busy, I secured the services of R. H. Franklin, an old 
soldier, and a friend of mine, to superintend its construc- 
tion, which he did in an able and honest manner. We moved 
into our new home March 21, 1905, where we hope to 
spend many happy years, comfort and cure the afflicted, 
and prolong the lives of ourselves and friends by assist- 
ing nature with the life-giving oxygen extracted from her 
own laboratories ; good air, food, water, proper temperature, 
and a strict adhesion to the following general direc- 
tions ; 



CLOSING EVENTS 379 

No medicine, drugs, or poisons. 'r^i-. 

No electricity of any kind. 

No turpentine, chloroform, or alcohol. 

No liniments, salves, or lotions. 

No beer, wine, or any kind of liquors, unless specially pre- 
scribed. 

Patent medicines contain from twelve to fifty per cent, 
of alcohol. 

During treatment bathe not more than twice a week, with 
water just comfortable. Use a sponge or towel only. Rub 
well toward the body. 

Avoid hot baths, or very cold ones. Never bathe for two 
hours or more after a meal. To bathe before retiring is best. 

You must sleep alone, both for your own sake and that 
of others. 

Never eat without an appetite. Wait until the stomach 
calls for food. Eat well when you have an appetite, but 
stop when you could eat more. 

Never overeat. Never eat when tired and exhausted. Rest 
first. 

Avoid meat at the last meal of the day. 

As to diet, no two persons are alike. 

No set of rules can be given for everybody. 

Eat that which agrees with you and let alone that which 
does not. Don't mix several kinds of vegetables at the 
same meal, or mix fruits with vegetables. Too many kinds 
of food at one meal are not good. Use olives or olive oil 
as a food if you wish. 

Drink sparingly at meals. Avoid strong tea and coffee. 
Use no milk in coffee and plenty of milk in tea. 

Use plenty of cold water between meals, but not too much 
at a time, 



38o ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

Most people eat too much, especially old people. Modera- 
tion in all things. 

Be careful about overworking in nervous troubles. Obey 
the laws of nature, and profit thereby. 

Oxygen assists nature to remove the cause of disease. 
Oxygen gives you vitality. Drugs, medicine, and alcohol 
reduce the vitality and only remove effects. 

Holding the hands in cold water will, many times, reduce 
the pains and bad feelings caused by the action of the oxy- 
gen. 

Hot compresses, as hot as can be borne, placed over the 
painful part, will relieve, but you must remove as soon as 
relieved. Sip a cup of hot water, with a pinch of salt in it, 
for sour stomach, short breathing, nausea, or fainting fits, 
or a constricted throat. On going to bed, sip a cup of hot 
water, with a pinch of salt in it, for constipation. 

Oxygen will reverse the process of disease. After six- 
teen years of experience we cure more diseases with oxygen 
(except consumption) than by any other method known, 
and can prove it by demonstration, if the treatment is not 
interfered with and directions are followed. Since 189 1 my 
life has been fully occupied with studying the symptoms and 
causes of disease and the effects of oxygen upon the same, 
and I flatter myself that my studies have not been in vain, 
as thousands can testify. I have been badly handicapped by 
my failing eyesight, for which there seems to be no remedy, 
and it looks as though I must eventually become blind. I 
am doing all I can to preserve what little sight I have. By 
taking good care of myself and cheerfully making the best 
of my serious condition, I am in hopes that I may be spared 
to successfully combat the ills cf life, smooth the path of life 
for suffering humanity, correct in a measure the excesses, 



CLOSING EVENTS ^ 381 

and teach many people to depend upon Nature and let drugs, 
poisons, and M. D.'s alone. 

The year 1905 was a fairly prosperous one with me, al- 
though my sight surely but slowly failed. Changing our 
home from the ranch to our house in town, and getting the 
house in order, furnishing and fitting it up in an up-to-date 
manner, has occupied our time and attention for most of 
the year. Several of our most beloved relatives and friends 
have died, though myself and family passed through the 
year most comfortably and satisfactorily. 

Some of the time I was overworked by the many patients, 
but New Year's Day, 1906, found me in good condition, 
physically and morally, and as jovial as ever, still in the 
pursuit of happiness. On account of my eyes and my pa- 
tients, I was tied up at home, and visited Los Angeles only 
twice during the year 1905, once to visit the Old Soldiers' 
Encampment at Huntington Beach, and once on business. 
During the hot summer months I was obliged to keep out 
of the heat, on account of my eyes. 

For several years I have been a prisoner at home during 
the heated term, although enjoying the best of health. I am, 
at the present time of writing, in my seventy-fifth year of 
life. 

The greater part of the foregoing pages have been writ- 
ten since I was seventy years young, almost entirely from 
memory, for I had but little memoranda to draw from; 
therefore, I had to leave out many amusing incidents that 
I had passed through that would have made the history of 
my life more interesting, perhaps. 

The idea of my writing this book was conceived by a 
young lady who spent several months at our house, and she 
was never so happy as when she could coax me to relate 



332 ONE OF THE PEOPLE 

some of my past experiences. She would sit for hours Hsten- 
ing to them, and then say, *'Why don't you write a book? 
How I would like to read it ! It would surely be interesting 
to others/' 

Poor girl ! She is dead now, but it confirms the old adage 
that there is a woman in the case, in many of our troubles — 
and there was one in this case — of my autobiography. 



THE END. 



,#*:■' 



APR 30 1907 



